Until We Meet Again
by rum423
Summary: They fell apart once. He ran. She forgave. What if the positions were reversed? Would she ever leave the man she loves? And could he be as forgiving if they ever meet again?
1. Chapter 1

So, I suppose this story could use a little explaining. I started it about 10-11 months ago in response to what I considered an awful, terrible storyline, full of numerous offenses, the least of which being that the story went absolutely nowhere. There were no surprises, and though full of opportunity, none of the issues involved were ever explored. So, out of frustration, I wrote my own version, focusing on the characters I like, the emotions and tendencies I feel are organic.

Warning, I like Billy and Victoria, obviously. Actually, I love them, so if you don't, that's cool and maybe this story isn't for you. Again, cool. But, there are other characters that make substantial appearances, and I believe most fans of the show could appreciate it. It is finished, the full story posted elsewhere, and by request, I am adding it here, largely to make sure it is available regardless of the status of message boards.

On that note, please enjoy. It was a labor of love and my first attempt at fanfic.

Chapter 1

_May 17 2012_

Victoria stood frozen outside the door she knew could change her life, unable to muster enough conviction to either knock or flee. She fixed her eyes on the four gold numbers descending the face of the door and willed them to give her a sign, just one sign, that what she was doing here was right.

She knew it was desperate. She knew it was risky. And she knew all too well that in the end, it may not even be worth it. Worst of all, she knew that knocking on this door would hurt every person she loved. Especially him.

_Him._

Victoria leaned her head against the coolness of the door, allowing its sturdiness to steady her body and her mind. He was why she was here she reminded herself. He was why she had to do this, no matter the consequences.

She placed the palm of her hand on the door and pushed herself upright. Her fingers curled into a tight fist, and with every bit of Newman determination she had inherited from her father and earned from being his daughter, she struck the smooth plane of the door, harder than she had intended, more persistently than she had intended, each strike bringing her closer to the fate that lay on the other side.

* * *

_Three Weeks Earlier_

Since that day at the club when she first discovered Chelsea's acquaintance with Adam, Victoria had been gripped with a nagging panic that he, rather than Chelsea, Anita or her own meddling father, would cost her yet another child. It wasn't a rational feeling. She knew it was fear born of her losses, mixed with the knowledge of what her half-brother was capable of. He was why Ashley and her dad lost their baby. He was the reason Nick and Sharon grieved Faith for six months. So, no matter how ridiculous it seemed and no matter how many times Adam claimed to be a changed man, Victoria couldn't help but wonder if it was her turn to be his victim.

But in all her late-night worry sessions, in the tossing and turning and the ever-growing sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, not once did Victoria imagine Adam would come at her armed with the truth, wielding it with good intentions but wounding her nonetheless.

He made his attack on d-day, delivery day, or night as it turned out. Victoria and Billy had been enjoying a much needed night out alone, dinner at the club, when they received the call that Chelsea was at the hospital. Her water had broken, the baby was coming.

In the weeks since Billy had returned from L.A., they had worked out the details with Chelsea of what each party expected to happen on d-day. Given the circumstances, Chelsea's crimes that had led to this uncomfortable situation, they all agreed that neither Billy nor Victoria would be present in the delivery room. And since Chelsea wanted nothing to do with the mother she couldn't find now anyway, they had hired a doula to be Chelsea's support system before, during and after the birth. Once the baby was born, Chelsea would spend a few minutes with him before a nurse would bring him to the private nursery where Billy and Victoria would meet their son for the first time.

That's where Adam found her in the wee hours of the morning, pacing the length of the nursery for the millionth time, clutching the little blue bear she had bought as her son's first gift, and fighting that nagging nauseous feeling that there was still time for something to go wrong. Billy had gone on his sixth coffee run of the night, and when she heard the heavy wooden door swing open, she expected his tired face to greet her. Instead, she saw her half-brother standing in the doorway, hesitant and uneasy.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she fired, channeling all of her initial terror into searing anger.

"I, uh, I was with Chelsea when her water broke." Adam let the door close behind him, but ventured no farther into the room. "I brought her to the hospital."

"Of course you were with her," she scoffed. "Even after I told you to stay away." Victoria tossed the little bear into the empty rocking chair and crossed her arms defensively. "Your good deed has been duly noted. You can leave now."

"I stuck around because I need to talk to you…alone. I saw Billy heading for the cafeteria, so…you know..."

The gentle, contrite nature of his tone was unnerving and sent her on the offensive. She closed the distance between them and looked him square in the eyes. "Unless you're here to tell me you're leaving town _for good_, then I don't want to hear it," she said coldly.

"It's a scam," he blurted. The words stung her as much as if he'd hit her. "The whole baby thing is a scam. Billy isn't the father. You're not getting the baby."

"Get out," she seethed. She made a move for the door, but he blocked her path.

"Not until I tell you everything I know."

Her anger was failing her. Her fear was gaining ground. She retreated to the far end of the room, making her new stance at the window, her back to the enemy, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, and prepared for the lies she knew were coming.

She stared at Genoa City through vertical blinds while Adam told her how he'd overheard Billy arranging their evening at the club and how he'd used the opportunity to surprise Chelsea with pizza and a movie. Only she wasn't alone when he got to the garage apartment. Anita was there, and they were arguing, over new ways to bilk the Abbotts out of millions and fast since the baby was coming any day now and over whose fault it was that the original plan had failed. He told her how Chelsea had been pregnant and in need of cash and how Victor had come along just in time in need of someone to permanently sever the bond between his daughter and that punk Billy Abbott. When Billy refused to pay her off, she played on their sympathy and their desire for a child, worming her way into their home long enough to figure out the next move. That's when Adam confronted them. Anita ran, but Chelsea couldn't. Because while the biggest con of her life was crumbling around her, her water broke.

"Look Vick, I don't have all the details," he said, cautiously approaching her, "but I thought you should know what I heard."

"You mean you haven't had time to make up the details, right?" She felt a new round of anger emerging and whirled around to face him.

"You know, you've always thought you were so much smarter than everybody else. Because you went to Harvard. But you must really think I'm stupid if you think for one second I'm going to believe anything you say. After all the lies you've told my family. And Billy's."

Adam hung his head in shame, unable and unwilling to defend her accusations.

"There's just one problem with your little story, Adam. The paternity test."

Adam offered a small wry smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Because dear old Dad, he would never pay off a doctor or a lab tech. And who knows what tricks Chelsea and Anita have in their arsenal."

_Delia. _

Her mind was swirling with lies and possible truths. She couldn't believe Adam, didn't want to because of what she stood to lose. But they had known Chelsea was up to something, known it all along. And her father? He had hurt her so much already, but how could he use her yearning for another child against her?

Just as she felt herself on the verge of falling apart, the nursery door swung open, and Billy barreled into the room, chest puffed out, fists clenched.

"You. Out. Now," Billy said through gritted teeth. He made a beeline for Victoria and wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist.

"Billy, I was just telling her…" Adam started to explain.

"Oh, I heard enough of what you were just telling my wife, and now I'm just telling you to get the hell away from her." Billy turned to face Victoria and held her firmly by the shoulders. "You know he's lying. I know he's lying. Everything's fine."

"I'm not lying, Victoria. I swear…I swear on my mother's grave that everything I told you is true."

Billy laughed contemptuously and turned around, making his body a barrier between Adam and his wife. "Yeah? Well, if you had any _honor_, that might mean something. But you don't. This is how you operate. You play on people's fears to gain their trust. Make'em think you're their best friend. Then you destroy them. You did it to my sister. But I'll be damned if you do it to my wife."

"Billy," Victoria implored, tears threatening. While she knew little about the half-brother rarely acknowledged her whole life, she knew one thing for sure-he loved his mother. And when Billy twisted his body to look at her, he saw that heartbreaking truth reflected in her eyes.

"No," Billy said quietly. "Where's his proof, huh? Where's your proof?" he demanded, turning back to Adam.

Adam put his hands up in surrender. "I don't have any. But I also don't have anything to gain from this. I told you what I heard because I thought you both deserved to know." He paused. "And because I don't want another baby used as a pawn in some game. What you choose to do with that is up to you."

His mission complete, Adam started for the door only to be nearly run over by the nurse who had been keeping them updated on Chelsea's progress.

"It's a boy," she announced cheerily. "A big boy too, 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 22 inches long."

The joy they should have had was absent, but the petite nurse seemed oblivious to the tension in the room as she prattled on. "The delivery went just fine. Ms. Lawson's mother showed up just in time for the birth, so they want a little more time with him before I bring him to you. I hope that's okay."

"It's fine," Victoria managed to squeak out as she gladly gripped the hand Billy offered her. She just wanted everyone to leave them alone, but as the nurse attempted to exit the room, Adam extended her stay.

"8 lbs 3oz," he repeated. "That's gotta be some kind of a record for a preemie, huh, sis?"

"A preemie? Good gracious," the nurse laughed. "Your nephew is as full-term as they come."

"Oh, I guess I misunderstood," Adam said. The nurse left the room, and Adam turned to face his sister and her husband one last time.

"Full-term." Adam narrowed his eyes. "That makes the date of conception what? Last week of July, maybe first week of August? And when was it you "met" Chelsea, Billy?"

Billy didn't answer. He didn't have to. He hadn't even gotten to Myanmar til the end of August and wasn't arrested til September 3, six days before his anniversary, six days before Victor procured his release.

Adam opened the door to leave, but turned back apologetically. "For the record, Vick, I've never thought you were stupid, but it doesn't take a Harvard education to figure this one out."

The door clicked sharply as it closed behind Adam. Finally alone, Billy and Victoria collapsed into each other's arms, the weight of the truth crushing them, the prospect of leaving the hospital empty-handed suffocating.

* * *

The door with the four gold numbers swung open forcefully revealing a giggling, scantily-clad redhead who was clearly expecting someone else.

"Hello, Phyllis," Victoria said coolly.

"Oh, Victoria… uh…hi..." Phyllis pulled the short silk robe she was wearing tighter around her waist before opening the door wider and motioning for Victoria to enter. "Sorry," she laughed. "I'm just a little surprised to see you, you know you're not usually such a um…ferocious… knocker."

Victoria entered the apartment and gave a quick look around for signs that they were indeed alone. All of the nervousness and indecision she had experienced prior to knocking had been carefully pushed aside as she assumed the role of Victoria Newman, Teflon business woman, ice princess extraordinaire.

"You thought it was Nicholas, huh," Victoria said with a knowing half-laugh. "He does that knocking thing to me too, which I hate. Which he knows. Which only makes him do it more."

"Are you looking for Nick? Is that why you're here? Cause he's actually _not_ here, not right now anyway."

"No," she responded a little too quickly. "I'm actually really glad he's not here. I'm here to see you. I need your help with something, something really important. Something that needs to stay between us."

"Oh, okay, sure. My lips are sealed. But I kinda feel like I'm about to be punked or something," Phyllis joked.

Victoria didn't laugh. She looked down at her fidgeting hands briefly before forcing her eyes upward to meet the fierce blue eyes of the woman standing in front of her, the woman she was betting her future on.

"I need you to help me disappear."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_May 17, 2010_

"I'm sorry," Phyllis laughed in disbelief. "Did you say you need me to help you _disappear_?"

"Yes," Victoria answered matter-of-factly as she brushed past the stunned redhead.

"I'm going to D.C. to see Reed," she continued, taking a seat on the far end of the sofa. "He's having all these end-of-the-year activities at his school, and then we've got all these other things planned around the city. But after that," she paused, "I don't plan on returning to Genoa City."

"You're joking, right?" Phyllis followed Victoria's path around the sofa and sat on the opposite end. "I mean, this is a joke."

Victoria ignored the question and the confused look on Phyllis' face as she went on. "I still need to be able to call Reed everyday and email him and Skype with him. And I know you're good with computers and everything, so I need you to, I don't know, block signals or something to keep anyone…well everyone…from tracking me down. That's something you can do, right? I mean…"

"Victoria!" Phyllis interjected, halting the hurried rambling of the woman across from her. "What about your family? What about Billy?"

Phyllis' questions, the sound of his name chipped away at her armor. "I'll pay you of course," she said quickly, trying to maintain her nerve. "Generously. F-for your services, as well as for your absolute discretion."

"Look, I know you've been through a lot in the last few weeks, and I'm-I'm really sorry about the baby and everything, but running away? Is that really going to help anything?"

Victoria stood instinctively at the mention of the baby, Chelsea's baby, the most recent in a long line of loss. She couldn't let herself get emotional now, and she definitely couldn't listen to one more person offer her sympathy and pity. She'd had enough of that in the last three weeks to last a dozen lifetimes.

"I'm not running away," she huffed as she distanced herself from the sofa and its occupant. "I just—I need some time."

"Is it Billy? Did something happen between you and Billy?"

Victoria turned her back to Phyllis and wrapped her arms around herself, a defense mechanism she had come to rely on. She didn't want to talk about Billy, and truthfully, she didn't know how to answer the question. So much had happened, so much she couldn't explain to herself, much less anyone else.

* * *

_3 Days Earlier_

They didn't fall apart after Adam's revelation that night at the hospital. They didn't fall apart when hours later Chelsea tearfully confirmed his accusations and apologized for everything she'd done to them, all while cradling the tiny swaddled bait she had dangled for months. And they didn't fall apart two days later when a new paternity test proved what they had already accepted, that Billy was not the father, that this baby too wouldn't be theirs.

No, they didn't fall apart, didn't turn from each other like when they lost Lucy. She didn't push him away and bury her broken heart in spreadsheets and contracts. He didn't leave for her own good and drown in a bottle of whiskey or place a bet to forget. They had been through that hell once, paid the price and vowed to never revisit it.

Instead, they clung together in the days that followed, fiercely holding on as they navigated through the grief and shock, the confusion and the hurt. And while they each managed to busy themselves with work, Billy with the magazine, Victoria with the gracious offer from Chloe and Abby to help plan the arts gala, there were things they were still unable to talk about, emotions too raw to reveal.

For Victoria, the grief took its toll physically. Her appetite waned, and the tossing and turning she had experienced prior to Adam's revelation turned into full-blown insomnia in the aftermath. Most nights, Billy would find her on the sofa in the middle of the night, wide awake, wrapped in a pink blanket, her eyes distant and apologetic. They would make love there in the flickering light of the television, sometimes feverishly, sometimes tenderly. Touch was the language that came easiest to them, the language where subjects like Victor and babies never came up.

Billy, on the other hand, showed few outward signs of his grief. Victoria suspected it was largely for her benefit. But she knew him, knew that there was a tornado of emotion twisting inside him, knew that in time he would release it.

So, she wasn't all that surprised when she got the call from Connie, her dad's secretary. She wasn't surprised to hear that Billy was at Newman, angry, threatening, and demanding to see Victor. They had managed to avoid both him and Chelsea for more than two weeks now, but as she watched the elevator buttons mark her upward journey, she couldn't help but wish he had chosen another day, any other day, to blast her father.

She heard their voices as soon as she stepped off the Newman elevator and into far too familiar surroundings. Connie rushed to her befor the doors closed behind her, clearly relieved by her presence.

"Mr. Newman just got here," she panted, "and he asked me to hold all his calls and to keep everyone out of his office."

"I've got it from here, Connie," Victoria reassured, placing a hand on the secretary's shoulder. "And thank you for calling me."

Connie nodded understandingly and left Victoria to handle her husband and her father. Victoria approached the double doors hesitantly and quietly turned the handle. She was happy to find the door unlocked, but didn't enter despite her discovery. Part of her wanted Billy to unleash his anger on her father for everything he had done to them, something she couldn't risk doing, not now.

Through the crack in the door, she saw the great Victor Newman at his desk, that same lording appearance he always had when perched on his throne. His hands were clasped on his abdomen, his expression full of amusement. She couldn't see Billy from her limited vantage point, but she heard him.

"Do you even know what day it was yesterday? Huh? It was Mother's Day, you bastard." His voice was raw and full of anger, and without seeing him, she knew he was pacing. "And your daughter, she didn't have her son with her because of you, and she didn't have our baby, the one we lost, because of you, and she didn't have…she didn't have a new baby because of you."

Victor's amusement dissipated and he slowly rose, planting his hands on the desk. "You're forgetting someone, aren't you, Billy-boy. Little Lucy? How DARE you come to my office and accuse me of hurting my daughter. You are the one hurting Victoria."

Victoria could see Billy now. He was at the bar, pouring himself a drink from her father's decanter. She watched him down the shot and grimace as it burned his throat and failed to erase the memories or the guilt. "Yeah," he said without turning to face Victor, "Lucy's all on me. But at least I own my mistakes." He turned and hurled the empty tumbler across the room. Victoria flinched as it shattered against the wall, but her father remained unmoved.

"But you, you don't care how much you hurt her, do you? As long as it makes you right about me." Billy filled a second tumbler with the potent brown liquid and brought it to his lips.

Victor left the safety of the barricade his desk created, a smug look spreading across his face. "I am right about you, Billy Abbott. LOOK AT YOU!" he shouted. "You are a drunk. You are a gambler. You are a womanizer. Nothing you do will ever change that."

"And nothing you do will change the fact that Victoria and I love each other. So stop punishing her for it," Billy challenged before taking another sip of liquid courage. "We'd have a baby right now, a child of our own, if it wasn't for you." He rubbed the stubble that covered his chin with a shaky hand. "There was a birth mother. She wanted us to…if you hadn't brought Chelsea here, Victoria would have a baby."

"You listen to me," Victor said, invading Billy's personal space. "One day very soon, my daughter will realize she is damn lucky that there is no child binding her to you."

Even throucrack rack in the door, Victoria could see Billy had reached his breaking point. His face was red with anger, his body twitching with fury. Before she could act, he slammed the tumbler he held in his hand on the bar and swept the hard surface clean, sending shards of glass and streams of alcohol flying. Then he swung at Victor, who blocked the punch from his right hand but not the left jab that caught his chin and sent the older man stumbling backwards.

"STOP IT," Victoria yelled, finally bursting through the double doors, instinctively stepping between the two men. "No," she firmly instructed her father when he made an attempt to get around her. "It's over."

She turned to Billy. His eyes were cast down, and there was blood pouring from a gash in his right hand. Gently, she took his head in her hand and forced him to look at her. "It's over," she repeated and kissed him softly on the forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tears and shame reflected inhis eyes.

"I know," she whispered back.

They stood there for a moment, the only two people in the room, before she remembered the blood. "Come on. Let's take care of your hand." As they moved to leave, Victoria cut her eyes to where her father stood as a warning to stay put.

"Sweetheart," he said, catching her eye, "I want you to know I had nothing to do with the paternity test okay."

"You know what," she laughed cynically, "it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter who did what. You played a part in it, but it doesn't matter. You won't take responsibility, you never do."

She turned to go again, but paused to look at him once more, his suit and hair disheveled from the altercation with Billy, the beginnings of a bruise on his chin. He looked older than she remembered, but more defiant and unapproachable than ever. "People say I'm like you," she said sadly. "But I don't want to be like you. I don't want to be seventy years old with all the money in the world, but no one to love. Because I've hurt them all, driven them all away. I love my father very much. I do. But you…you are not my father anymore."

* * *

"Nothing happened with Billy," she half-lied, tensing her shoulders. "I told you- I just need some time."

Sensing her anxiety, Phyllis approached Victoria cautiously as if she were a wild animal. "Then why don't you tell him that, explain it to him," she said softly. "I'm sure he would understand. After everything you guys have been through…he would understand, Victoria."

"It's not that simple," she murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"It's not that simple," the redhead mimicked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Okay, so how long you talking about here? A couple weeks? A month?"

"It depends."

"Of course it depends! God forbid you actually answer a question here."

"Look, _Phyllis_," Victoria spat as she wheeled around to face her, her frustration getting the better of her. "It's none of your business. I came here to offer you a job, a job that could make you a small fortune by the way. So, either you'll help me or you won't."

"It's none of my business?" Phyllis responded sharply. "Really, Victoria? You're asking me to _lie_ to your whole family, including Nick when we're just getting back on track. Not to mention your husband, who happens to be my boss. So, excuse me if I'm not so eager to jump on board with this little plan of yours, even for a small fortune."

Victoria sighed and ran her hands through her hair, irritated with the way the conversation was going. "I knew I should've gone to Kevin," she muttered and marched to the couch to retrieve her purse.

"Oh, Kevin? _Please_," Phyllis rolled her eyes. "But you didn't go to Kevin, did you? You came to me. Why? You think I owe you a favor? Because of Lucy?"

Victoria stopped in her tracks. In front of her on the mantle was a photograph of Lucy, a close-up of her making a fish-face, the same face that greeted her and Billy every morning for five months. Victoria smiled faintly at the image of the little girl who used to be hers. "I wouldn't do that," she said quietly, running her hand over the glass. "I wouldn't use her as a bargaining chip."

For a moment the room was still as each woman relived the joy and pain of having loved and lost the same child. It was a connection they shared in spite of fault and blame, and Victoria silently reminded herself why she had come here. The stakes were high, and like it or not, she needed Phyllis.

"I didn't go to Kevin because he squeals," she said honestly. "And also because he's afraid of my father. You're not."

Phyllis took note of Victoria's softer demeanor and changed hers accordingly. "So this has to do with Victor. He do something else?"

"I told you I need to disappear. He'd be the first one to come looking for me, and that is really the last thing I need right now."

"What does that mean, Victoria?" Phyllis pleaded. "I-I want to help you. I do. I can tell something's wrong even if you're trying to hide it. And I know we're not as close as before Lucy…but you can tell me."

Victoria took a deep breath and turned around, forcing herself to hold the redhead's steady gaze. "There is another reason I came to you instead of Kevin. And it's the reason I know you'll help me."

"Wow," Phyllis laughed. "That's a pretty bold statement." She stuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear and motioned for Victoria to speak. "Let me hear it. What's this big reason I'll risk my job and my relationship with Nick to help you disappear?"

"You're a mother," she said simply, a slight crack in her voice. "And you've done some pretty crazy and extreme things to protect your kids. It's actually the thing I admire most about you. It's the reason I chose you to be Reed's godmother. You do what's best for your kids, even if it hurts other people. That's what I'm doing. That's why I have to leave."

"I don't get it," Phyllis said, struggling to understand. "Is something wrong with Reed?"

Victoria shook her head and released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

The chapel was empty. Just the way he liked it.

Billy sank into the hardness of the pew, stretching his legs out in front of him, his arms along the back of the wooden bench. His body formed a human reflection of the gold cross rising from the altar.

He hadn't wanted to come here, to the hospital, but Victoria had insisted the cut was deep, that he needed stitches. She was right. Six to be exact. She hadn't stayed with him for the procedure, claiming she'd rather fill out the paperwork than risk getting queasy from watching his hand be sewn back together.

But now, sitting in the eerie quiet of this place where so many people find comfort, Billy couldn't help but wonder if it was the wound she was escaping or him.

"I guess I deserve this," he said, raising his newly stitched and bandaged hand to the heavens. "Hell," he laughed gruffly, "we both know I deserve more than this."

Billy ran his uninjured hand roughly over his weary face and sat up straighter. "I thought we had a deal, you and me," he finally said, his voice forcibly calm but tinged with anger and hurt. "I thought that Christmas, the wedding…I thought that was a sign…a sign from _you_ that I could do right by her. That I could be a good husband."

Billy leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his emotions starting to overtake him, tears threatening to spill from his reddened eyes. "But you're the one not doing right by her. You're not doing right by her either."

A few tears escaped and he quickly wiped them away. "You saved Delia, and you gave me Victoria back. I'll always be grateful for that. And if you do this one last thing," he started, his voice cracking, "I won't ask you for anything else."

He didn't hear the chapel door open. He didn't see Victoria's face light up at having found him where she'd hoped he'd be. And he didn't see her face fall when he released his prayer into the universe.

"No more babies. Please. No more babies."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_May 17, 2012_

"You're pregnant?" Phyllis repeated. The look on her face made it clear that those were the last words she had expected to hear. Victoria nodded slightly, and a slow, cautious grin spread across the redhead's face. "That's great, Victoria. That's amazing, right? I mean, it-it's a miracle."

"Yeah," Victoria said quietly, "It's all of those things."

"Oh my gosh, I'm so happy for you." Phyllis closed the distance between them and drew her into a hug. The tension from earlier was gone, and Victoria allowed herself to give into the embrace. She could tell Phyllis' joy was genuine and hoped it was a sign that she understood, that she would help her.

"How long have you known?" Phyllis asked sweetly as she pulled out of the hug and led Victoria to the sofa.

"Just a few days," she said, settling into her seat. "Since Monday, actually. I went to the doctor because I haven't really been feeling well. I thought it was stress from all the…you know…the stuff that's been going on. I just wanted to able to sleep again," she admitted.

She felt herself begin to relax for the first time in days, maybe even weeks. If felt good to talk to someone other than a doctor about her pregnancy, even if that someone was Phyllis. "I never even suspected," she continued. "When he told me, I just sat there. It was like I couldn't understand what he was saying, like he was speaking a foreign language. I just remember I kept saying, 'No, I can't be pregnant.' He ran the damn test three times before I believed him."

"I remember that shock. I felt it when I found out about Summer," Phyllis said and then laughed. "Oh man, Billy must have flipped when you told him."

"No!" Victoria said, suddenly defensive and tense again. "Billy doesn't know. And he's not gonna know. You have to promise me you won't tell him. _Promise_ me," she demanded.

Phyllis was taken aback by Victoria's abrupt shift in mood. "It's not my news to tell, Victoria, but this isn't really something you can hide forever."

"Exactly," she said. "This pregnancy is why I need to disappear, Phyllis. It's why I came here asking you to help me. I'm not telling Billy about the baby, and there's nothing you can say to change my mind."

* * *

_3 Hours Earlier_

The gel was cold against her skin, and Victoria flinched in response. Another point against the doctor who was now fiddling with the ultrasound machine at her feet. She'd had to wait three days to get in to see Dr. Lange, a half hour in the waiting room, and then an additional forty-three minutes after the nurse uttered those infamous words, "The doctor will be right in." Billy was right, she thought to herself. Doctors are the only people on the planet who have absolutely no qualms about making you wait.

As his words echoed through her mind, she was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. She had been in this position before, literally and emotionally: the pink gown, the crinkling of the paper on the exam table beneath her, the gripping fear she couldn't shake. Only this time, she did have an appointment, and this time, Billy wasn't beside her, squeezing the feeling from her hand.

Victoria sighed loudly and tried to push all thoughts of that last visit from her mind. Dr. Lange must have taken it as a sign of her impatience because he made his final adjustments to the machine and turned his attention to her. "Okay, let's see what's going on in there," he said in a deep, scratchy voice.

As he made the first swipes across her lower abdomen, Victoria turned her eyes upward to avoid both the screen and any telling looks on the doctor's face. At first, she had been relieved when her family doctor suggested she see a perinatologist rather than her usual OB/GYN. She had always liked Dr. Okamura, but since the whole Chelsea thing, she wasn't sure who she could trust, didn't know how long the line of deception was. Besides, Dr. Lange was supposed to be the best when it came to high-risk pregnancies, his expertise surely making up for his lack of a bedside manner. He was tall and imposing, his face harsh and half-hidden behind glasses that rode low on is nose. He had barely acknowledged her since entering the room ten minutes ago, his eyes glued instead to the pages of her file. So far, she was not impressed with the great Dr. Lange.

"I have been told that there are exactly 172 tiles on the ceiling of this room," Dr. Lange said dryly. "Is it true?"

"What?" Victoria was startled by his voice and hear comprehending what he had said, shifted her eyes to look at him, forgetting for a split second why she had sought refuge in the ceiling. But it was too late. Her eyes landed on the monitor and the blurry, squirming image projected on it. She could make out the head with the beginnings of ears and eyes, a nose and a mouth. There were unbelievably small arms and legs, and in the middle of its body, a tiny, rhythmic flicker. It had a heartbeat. Her baby had a heartbeat.

"Made you look," Dr Lange said, the hint of a smile curling the edge of his upper lip.

A dam of emotion broke inside her, held back for days, and she didn't even try to stop the tears from streaming down her face. It hadn't been real. She hadn't let it be real, hadn't let the words 'You're pregnant' mean one damn thing until this moment. Now they meant everything. "Is it okay?" she asked between sobs.

"Perfectly healthy," he said, studying the alien creature closely. "Looks like you're measuring about…10 weeks and three…maybe four days."

Victoria dried her eyes the best she could and put on her business face. There were things she had to know. "What are my chances, doctor? What are the chances this baby will make it?"

The older man swiveled his stool around to face her fully and removed his glasses. For the first time she could see his whole face and was surprised to find he had kind, sympathetic eyes. "I don't sugarcoat, Mrs. Abbott."

"Please, call me Victoria, and I don't want you to sugarcoat anything. I just want you to be honest."

"Okay then. Honestly," he said, "not as good as someone without your history, but every pregnancy is different. The likelihood of having a miscarriage decreases significantly once you reach the second trimester, and you're almost there. That's a good sign. Plus, you're healthy."

"But?" she asked, noting the concern in his voice.

"But, miscarriage isn't the only thing we have to worry about. You also have a history of preeclampsia, which could be very serious for you and the baby."

"I was in a coma then, doctor. I don't plan on going anywhere near a construction site this time," she half-joked.

"Victoria," he sighed, "there's really no way to know what, if any, role your head injury played in your son's premature birth. You may just be predisposed to the condition. Lots of women are." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she wiped new tears from her face. "But that's the bad news. The good news is I'm the best there is and the condition can be successfully treated in most cases with medicine and with lifestyle changes."

"Dr. Lange, I will do whatever it takes to keep my baby safe. I'll stay in bed the whole pregnancy if you tell me to and eat only steamed broccoli."

"Well, I don't suggest that, not yet anyway," he winked. "But this is about more than giving up alcohol and caffeine for nine months or taking up prenatal yoga. You mentioned to the nurse that your stress level is pretty high. That has to stop." His face turned serious. "Starting now, today, you are to focus on creating the most relaxed, stress-free existence possible."

"Well, that's a lot easier said than done, doctor."

"I didn't say it would be easy," he said. "In fact, I've had patients who have given up high-profile careers or even cut certain friends and family members out of their lives for the duration. But not one has ever regretted it."

She looked at the frozen image on the ultrasound machine and knew that what he was saying was true. There was nothing she wouldn't do to have this baby, even if it meant giving up her whole life and everyone she loved.

* * *

"Here," Phyllis said, "It's Peppermint. It always used to settle my stomach when I was pregnant."

"Thanks," Victoria said, accepting the tea offered her. She blew into the steaming mug and took a small sip. "You know I haven't even really had morning sickness," she smiled.

The two women sat in silence, neither quite sure how to continue the conversation. Victoria took another sip of tea and carefully sat the mug on the coffee table. She nervously studied her now warm hands and rubbed the permanent black ring on her left hand. She had come this far; it was her move to make.

"There are no guarantees with this pregnancy, Phyllis," she finally said, her voice steady but solemn. "It could be the answer to our prayers, the greatest miracle ever. Or it could just be another punch in the gut."

"I get that you're scared, Victoria. I really do. I know how much you and Billy want a baby, but I just don't think that..."

"I do want this baby," she interrupted, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. "I want this baby s_o much_. And I know-I know Billy would want it, too. He would. But I'm not going to put him through that loss again. It's too much."

"So, what? You're gonna go through it all alone?" Phyllis challenged. "How is that fair? To either of you?"

"There isn't one thing that's fair about any of this, Phyllis. Not one thing." A tear escaped her eye, and Victoria wiped it away. "But Billy isn't the only one I'm protecting here. I went to the doctor today, a specialist, and he told me that to have the best possible outcome, I have to cut stress out of my life."

"Did he tell you to disappear off the face of the planet?"

"I know you think I'm making a rash decision, and maybe I am. But I don't have time. I don't have time to sit around and wait and see if Billy can handle this. I don't have time to wait for my father to stop meddling in my life or for him and Jack to stop fighting over Beauty of Nature. Or my mother. Or any number of other things. I'm already ten weeks pregnant, Phyllis," she said, breaking down. "I don't want to leave Billy. Or my family. And I know it seems selfish to just disappear, but I have to protect this baby. I'm its mother."

Phyllis put a comforting hand on Victoria's shoulder and wiped the moisture from her own blue eyes. "No," she said, "it's not selfish. You were right before. I would do anything to protect my kids. That's what you're doing. I get it."

"So will please help me?"

"I don't really feel right about it. Lying to Nick," Phyllis said, a pained look on her face, "but yeah, I'll help you."

This time it was Victoria who reached across the sofa and pulled Phyllis into a hug of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed into the redhead's hair. "And I promise," she said pulling away, "Nick won't find out, but if he does, I'll make him forgive you."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," she laughed. "Now, let's get to work. When do you leave for D.C.?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Victoria said apologetically. "I know it's fast, but this trip was planned two weeks ago, before I knew about the baby."

"Well, we're not gonna panic. We're not gonna do that," she said calmly and bit her lower lip. "Give me tonight. Summer's at a sleepover, and I'll cancel my plans with your brother. That'll give me time to come up with a plan, and we'll meet tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled and stood to go. "Phyllis, I owe you so much for doing this. Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet," she said and walked Victoria to the door. "But for the record, you're welcome."

As the door swung shut, Victoria found herself once again outside the door with the four gold numbers descending its face. And for the second time in less than an hour, she steadied herself against its coolness because the little relief she felt at having successfully completed her mission was no match for the dread she felt simply contemplating what lay ahead of her: saying goodbye to Billy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_May 17, 2012_

The house was empty when Victoria returned from seeing Phyllis. It had been an impulsive stop after her appointment with Dr. Lange, one that seemed completely rational and justifiable at the time, but now standing in the entry of the home she shared with Billy, Victoria began to second-guess her decision to run.

She tossed her purse and keys on the table at the foot of the stairs and let her eyes travel across every detail of the living room where so much had happened, good and bad. She loved this house. She had loved it since the day Gloria showed it to them and not just because it was a replica of Jim and Margaret's house, although she had taken that coincidence as a sign from the universe. She loved its hominess, its warmth, that it was perfect for a family. But mostly she loved it because of Billy, because it symbolized their ultimate leap of faith in each other. This house was their blaring announcement to the world that they would be together, everyone else's opinion be damned. So how could she even consider leaving it now? Or him?

"Hey you!" Billy's voice startled her back to reality just in time to catch him exiting the dining room, hurriedly closing the folding doors behind him. His face was all devilish grin, a sure sign he was up to something. "Thought I heard you come in," he said as he grabbed her face and gave her three quick kisses on the lips. "How was your day?"

Despite everything weighing on her mind, Victoria returned his smile easily, naturally. She always felt better just seeing his face. "My day was…eventful," she sighed. It was honest, if not exactly forthcoming.

"Eventful, huh?" He teasingly narrowed his eyes at her and snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Tell me all about it. Anything earth-shattering? Life-altering?"

Her own arms instinctively draped around Billy's neck, while her eyes nervously avoided his gaze for fear that he would see how accurately he had just described the events of her day. "Nothing quite that exciting," she lied. "Unless you count Abby and Chloe making it through an entire gala meeting without fighting, which you might come to think of it. How about you? How was your day?"

"It was good. Not 'eventful,'" he smiled, "but good. So, you all packed for D.C.?"

"Not even close," she groaned.

"Wish I could go with you."

"I know." She lovingly slid her fingers into his hair and rubbed lazy circles into his scalp. "But you can't. You have meetings and deadlines and employees to boss around. Plus, Delia needs you here. And Jack. And Ashley."

"Yeah, that's all true, but I'm still gonna miss you like crazy." He kissed her again and drew her into a hug that she returned as fiercely as he gave.

"Me too," she said quietly, and they held onto each other until her eyes landed on the mysteriously closed dining room doors. "So, um, why are those doors closed? We never close those doors. Oh God, don't tell me Keely strewed the trash again?"

"No, Keely did not strew the trash again," he mimicked, a gleam in his eyes. "It's a surprise. For you."

Billy positioned her in front of the folding doors and dramatically opened them, revealing a candlelit dinner for two, but it was more than that. Tropical flowers graced every flat surface, and the table was covered with all the exotic dishes they had eaten on their honeymoon. He had brought a little bit of Jamaica to their house, to her.

"How did you…why did you?" She was speechless and completely moved by his gesture.

"Well, now I couldn't let my best girl skip out on me without a proper send-off," he joked as he pulled her chair out for her. "Plus, it's sort of an apology for the other night, that thing with your dad."

There it was, that little bit of sadness in his eyes, the guilt he carried so heavily. She reached for him across the table and took his hand. "I told you it's okay. You have a right to be angry with him."

"Still shouldn't have done it. Hitting him, I mean."

"You owed him one," she smiled, remembering the shiner he sported their first trip to Jamaica. "But I don't want to talk about him tonight. I don't want to talk about any of that, okay. Tonight is about you and me and right now, nothing else. Okay?"

The sadness faded a bit, and he leaned across the table for a kiss. "Okay, mon."

* * *

Victoria used her free hand to hold the suitcase closed as she inched the zipper along its course. She had packed for two weeks only, the two weeks she planned to spend in D.C. with Reed. After that…well after that she wasn't sure what would happen, but if everything went the way she hoped, she wouldn't have any use for the clothes she had just packed anyway.

With one long tug, she pulled the suitcase off the bed and took its place there among the clothes that hadn't made the final cut. She'd argued when Billy ordered her upstairs after dinner, saying he would do all the cleaning so she could finish packing, but now she was grateful he had. It had been a long day, a long week, and it was nice to have a moment to just sit and breathe and let her mind settle.

Dinner had been fun, relaxed, almost like before that night at the hospital three weeks ago. They'd laughed a lot, over memories of that first drunken trip to the island that was now such an integral part of their love story, and she'd actually had an appetite for the first time in long a time. But all of this only complicated her situation more, making her wonder if maybe she shouldn't just tell him about the baby.

The baby. A slow smile spread across her face as she put a protective hand on her stomach.

"Hey you," she whispered, giving the open bedroom door a cautious glance. "I saw you today. You're pretty cute." She sighed and patted the place where her hand lay. "Your timing, however….but don't you worry about that, okay. You just stay right where you are and get bigger and stronger and cuter. I'll take care of everything else."

It scared her how much she already loved this baby. She'd only known about it for three days, but she was already far more attached than she should let herself be. There were no guarantees with this pregnancy, that was what she had told Phyllis, and she knew it was true. Yet….she couldn't help but hope and want.

Victoria quickly hopped off the bed and gathered the clothes she hadn't packed in her arms, determined to keep busy, or the worry would drive her insane. Once the discarded clothes were neatly put away, she pulled a deep blue silk negligee from her lingerie drawer. It was one of Billy's favorites, and she wanted tonight to be special for him in case it was the last for a while or forever, if he couldn't forgive her.

She pulled her shirt over her head, but as she undid the button of her pants, she caught sight of herself in the full length mirror in the corner of their bedroom. It was the mirror where Billy straightened his tie every morning and where she usually decided which pair of shoes to wear, but tonight something else drew her to it.

Standing in front of the mirror, her eyes drifted down her body, past the black lace bra, down her torso to the part of her abdomen no longer covered by her unbuttoned pants. She didn't look pregnant. In fact, she was thinner than usual, and a new wave of guilt washed over her as she thought about all the weeks she hadn't known, all the weeks she hadn't eaten properly or slept enough or taken prenatal vitamins. But the baby was healthy, Dr. Lange had said so, and she had vowed to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

"Looks like I'm right on time." For the second time tonight, Billy startled her out of her daydreams, and she jumped slightly as his face appeared in the mirror behind her.

"You're early," she said trying to cover her nervousness. "I was going to wear something special."

"This looks pretty special to me," he said looking the reflection of her half-dressed body up and down. He wrapped his arms around her bare skin, and her stomach flip-flopped at his touch. "You all packed?"

She nodded in response and leaned back into his embrace. She watched in the mirror as his hand brushed up the length of her arm and slipped the black strap of her bra off her shoulder, replacing it with a kiss, the first of a trail he made to that spot on her neck that always made her squirm. This time was no different, and he held her tighter as he continued his assault on her neck. The possessive hand on her stomach inched lower, stopping at the place her eyes had just searched for signs of her pregnancy, the same place where Dr. Lange had squirted cold ultrasound gel that afternoon. Without even knowing it, Billy was cradling his child.

Her body tensed at the realization, and she covered his hand with her own. He should have been there. He should have been there to see that wriggling alien creature no bigger than a lime. He should have been there squeezing the circulation from her hand and asking Dr. Lange a million questions. She had robbed him of that, and it wasn't fair. He had a right to know. She had to tell him.

"What is it?" he breathed into her neck. She forced her stinging eyes up to meet the reflection of his in the mirror, and her heart broke. His face was all hurt and confusion.

"There's something I need to tell you," she barely said as a tear rolled down her cheek. She turned in his embrace, and he planted his hands on either side of her face.

"No. You don't have to say anything. I already know, okay. I know."

Her heart stopped, and the tears kept falling. He knew? How? Had Phyllis betrayed her already? Had he overheard her talking to the baby? Had he found the prenatal vitamins she thought she had hidden so carefully?

He held her facer tighter and buried his fingers in her hair. "I know we've been through a lot, and it's not fair and it hurts like hell. And I know you said earlier you didn't want to talk about it tonight, and that's fine cause I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it yet either." He used his thumb to wipe a tear from her face as one fell down his own. His voice was as soft and shaky as that night in the chapel when he asked God for one last favor.

"But I don't want you to worry about me while you're gone, okay? You need this time away, just you and Reed. You deserve it, and I don't want you to spend your time worrying that I'm gonna fall apart. What happened with your dad the other night was a one time thing, I promise. And as much as I'm going to miss you, I want you to go," he smiled, "and have fun. And when you get back, we can figure out everything else."

He didn't know. He didn't know about the baby, and as they stood there looking into each other's teary eyes, she was relieved and more certain than ever about what she had to do.

"I love you," she choked out. It was a plea and an apology. A desperate need to make him sure of her love. And ultimately, it was goodbye.

"I love you, too," he responded, aware of the depth and truth of her words, but thankfully not her intentions. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead to soothe her and then one on her waiting lips. She felt his hands slide through her hair and down her bare back, over her hips and back up to her waist. His touch was strong and sensual, sending a warmth coursing through her body. A needy gasp escaped her parted lips, and in response, Billy bent slightly and lifted her enough to walk them to their bed. Emotionally, they were both exhausted, but physically, the night had just begun, and it was all theirs.

* * *

Just enough moonlight shone through the bedroom window to offer Victoria an outline of the naked man sleeping beside her. She couldn't sleep yet again, but for once she didn't mind. She could sleep on the plane tomorrow, but tonight she was content watching the gentle rise and fall of Billy's chest, memorizing every solid curve of muscle.

She had almost told him tonight, almost scrapped her whole impetuous plan and just laid it all out for him, trusting that they could handle whatever happened…together. But she hadn't. She couldn't. As much as she ached to tell him about the baby growing inside her, the baby they had been told was next to impossible, the voices in her head were stronger and louder, repeating the mantra that was guiding her: "no more babies," "high-risk pregnancy," "stress-free existence."

Then there was the sound that outweighed everything.

Victoria carefully slipped out of the loose hold Billy's arm had on her and reached across their bed, fumbling in the dark for her cell phone on the nightstand. Once it was in her hand, she settled back into the warmth of his body and shielded the room from her phone's bright light while she searched for the precious recording she had made at Dr. Lange's insistence. Soft snores assured her that Billy was indeed sound asleep, so she tapped the play button and held her breath until she heard it, a strong, rapid, rhythmic "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh."

"I'm pregnant," she whispered into his ear. "This is our baby's heartbeat."

It wasn't the confession he deserved or the one she wanted to make, but for a moment in the dark it was enough. It was enough to ease her guilt. It was enough to just lie there with the man she loved and listen to their child's heartbeat.

When the recording ended, Victoria returned her phone to the nightstand as carefully as she had retrieved it and laid her head against Billy's chest. She listened to his heart beat steady and slow as she caressed the solid muscles she had earlier committed to memory until she finally felt him stir beneath her touch. She was no longer content just watching him sleep.

She stretched her body upward until her face was even with his and caught his lower lip between hers while her rogue hand moved slowly, dangerously down his torso, making it clear why she had woken him. Though she could barely make out his face in the dark, she sensed his eyes were open and felt him smile against her kiss just before his mouth came crashing down on her.

The night was young, and she had every intention of making the most of it. Before she left tomorrow, before she leapt into the unknown, he would know exactly how much she wanted him, how much she loved him.

* * *

"I can't believe you wanted to meet here of all places to discuss my…my situation?" The morning rush had come and gone at Crimson Lights, and even though the patio was empty, Victoria's paranoia level was high.

"What?" Phyllis asked innocently as she slinked into the metal chair opposite Victoria. "We are simply two acquaintances who ran into each other at a common, often-frequented coffee house. That's much easier to explain than someone catching us at my place or yours." She tore open two sugar packets and casually stirred the contents into her mug of coffee. "Besides, this won't take long."

"Don't tell me you changed your mind."

"No, I didn't change my mind," she said as she opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper someone had folded into a neat square, "but I did come up with a way to help you without actually helping you, not that Nick will probably see it that way. Or Billy."

"I told you I'll handle that if it comes up," Victoria responded as she curiously accepted the paper Phyllis handed her. "What's this?"

"Don't open it here. It's the name and address of a friend of mine in D.C. He used to work for the CIA, so he's really good at keeping secrets. I gave him a quick rundown of what you need, and he's agreed to do it…for that small fortune you mentioned, of course."

"I can trust him?"

"More than you can trust me. He doesn't have the emotional connection."

Victoria sighed loudly and transferred the folded paper to her own purse. "I can't thank you enough Phyllis. I hope you know that."

Phyllis smiled and took a long drink from her mug. "Do you know where you're going?"

"I have an idea, but nothing set in stone."

"Okay, well I should probably…" She tilted her head toward the exit as she gathered her things and stood. "Take care of yourself, Victoria. And if you need anything or change your mind…"

"I know, Phyllis. And thank you, again," she laughed through watery eyes. "Can I ask you one more favor? Keep an eye on Billy?"

Phyllis nodded and squeezed Victoria's hand in response before hurrying for the exit so fast she almost collided with someone trying to enter. It was Adam, and it was the first time Victoria had seen him since that night in the nursery.

She stood abruptly and gathered her own things while her half-brother recovered from his near collision.

"You don't have to leave on my account," he said.

"I-I'm not." There was tension between them, but it wasn't the angry tension she was used to with him. They were both nervous and uncomfortable, and for once not trying to hurt each other with their words. "I actally have a plane to catch."

"Where you going?"

"To Washington. To my son-to see Reed."

"Well, have a good trip," he smiled and headed into Crimson Lights.

"Adam?" He stopped and turned back to her. "H-how's the baby? How's Chelsea's baby?"

He hesitated for a brief second. "He's doing great. Um, they're in Atlantic City. A friend of mine from Harvard owns one of those super swanky casinos and offered her a job running one of the tables, sort of like legal scamming. Anyway, it's got great benefits and childcare, and she can even pursue her education if she wants."

She smiled and headed for the exit, but turned before she got to the door. "Thank you for making sure he has a chance at a good life."

"I didn't do it to hurt you Victoria," he said softly. "I just want you to know that."

"I do," she said. "You did the right thing…for him. It's funny, isn't it? Even when we do the right thing, someone gets hurt." With that, she offered him a genuine smile and headed into the bright May morning, the last one she would spend in Genoa City for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

_June 1, 2012_

"Come on." Billy exhaled loudly and rapped his knuckles against the wall of the elevator, mentally kicking himself for not taking the stairs instead. Nothing was moving fast enough for him today, not his early morning flight home from L.A. or the cab that brought him here straight from the airport. And certainly not the hours that separated him from Victoria.

He smiled at the thought of her, at the thought that by this time tomorrow she would be back where she belonged, and he couldn't wait to welcome her home as memorably as she had said goodbye. Just as his mind started to slip dangerously into memories of moonlight and roving hands, the elevator jerked to a stop, and Billy bolted from its confines like a wild animal suddenly freed from captivity.

"Helloooo everybody," he shouted, dropping his bags onto the sofa as he headed for his desk. "The boss has returned." He looked around the _Restless Style _office, expecting a boisterous reception or at least a measly "hi," but instead, he was greeted only by empty desks and silence. "Where the hell is everybody?"

"I sent them home," a voice answered him from behind. He spun around just as his redheaded editor-in-chief sauntered down the steps of the raised landing and brushed past him.

"You sent them home? Of course you sent them home. It's not like we have a magazine to put out or anything."

"Ok, Mr. L.A.," Phyllis mocked, her voice full of sarcasm, "some of us were here all night working hard to put out that magazine while somebody was across the country schmoozing with T.V. executives. So yeah, it's Friday, and I let them go home early." She flopped into her desk chair and crossed her arms, challenging him to questDecision decision.

"Good," he grinned and flopped into his own chair. "They deserve a break."

Billy picked up the stack of mail and messages someone had left neatly arranged on his desk and began flipping through it. While he separated the important items from the junk, Phyllis carefully studied his demeanor. Today was the day. If Victoria had actually gone through with her plan, today was the day Billy would find out his wife had disappeared, and judging by the current unsuppressed joy on his face, he was bound to be blindsided. Or maybe, just maybe, she had changed her mind and told him about the baby.

"You're in a good mood," she said, initiating her fishing expedition. "The meetings must have gone well."

"The meetings were great." He answered her casually, without stopping what he was doing. "_Restless Style_ the series is one step closer to becoming reality. Plus, the sun is shining, summer's almost here, and most importantly," he smiled and finally looked up, "most importantly, my wife is _finally _coming home tomorrow."

"Oh Victoria-Victoria's coming home?" Phyllis stammered. "She's coming home tomorrow?"

"Yep." Billy slapped the stack of papers he intended to keep on his desk and tossed the rest into the trash can. "Now if I could just get a hold of her to find out what time her plane lands…"

"You haven't talked to her?" Phyllis scratched a nonexistent itch on her arm as she waited for his response.

"Uh…not since yesterday. We've been kinda playing phone tag the last few days with me in L.A. and her in D.C. I'm sure she and Reed are trying to squeeze out every last minute of their time together."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it. It's not like she disappeared or anything." She hadn't meant to say it. It just slipped out, and she laughed to cover any seriousness he may have picked up on. But the laughing only made her more flustered, and she nearly sent half a dozen objects flying off her desk.

"You know what, Phyllis," Billy said pointing at her. "I think maybe you should take the rest of the day off too. You seem kind of…I don't know…over-caffeinated maybe? Just a little?"

"Yeah, I am. I am definitely over-caffeinated, and I think you're right. I think I will take the rest of the day off. I've worked hard. I deserve it. Right?" She hastily straightened her desk and grabbed her purse before bolting for the nearest exit. If today was indeed the day, she wanted to be anywhere but with Billy when all hell broke loose.

Billy shook his head in exasperation as the elevator door rattled closed, taking the last of his employees with it. Finally alone, he ignored the enormous amount of work he sensed was waiting for him and instead pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. Still nothing from Victoria. He hit the call button and after one ring heard her voice instructing him to leave a message.

"Hey baby, guess I missed you again," he laughed at the beep. "Hope you and Reed are having fun today. I know I plan on you and me having some fun of our own when you get home tomorrow, if you know what I mean. Anyway, call me and let me know when your plane gets in. And give Reed a hug and kiss for me. I love you. Bye."

Once he ended the call, Billy traded his phone for the framed photograph of Victoria that sat on his desk. The last two weeks without her had been hard, but not nearly as torturous as those six days he spent in jail in Myanmar, those six days when he hadn't been sure if he'd ever see her again. Or if she'd forgive him if he did find his way back to her.

Only a few more hours, he reminded himself as he stared at her smiling face. Only a few more hours and she'd be home, and he'd be able to see her and touch her and kiss her.

And after he had done all that, then they could talk about the baby.

* * *

Billy collapsed onto the sofa when he finally got home from _Restless Style_. After spending the morning flying across the country and all afternoon working as a one-man publisher, he was wiped out, but as he looked around the living room, at the furniture serving as a closet/hamper combination and the coffee table boasting a collection of empty beer bottles, he knew his day wasn't over yet. It would probably take him all night to clean the mess he had made prior to his trip and return the house to Victoria's standards of orderliness.

L.A. had been a last-minute trip, one that Victoria had encouraged when he told her about it over the phone, saying the distraction would be good for him. And it had been. He had gone there with the sole purpose of meeting a network bigwig who had been out of town during his last visit, but he returned to Genoa City after only a few days with promising new developments for his career and for his future with Victoria. In a way, L.A. had been an unlikely answer to his prayers, to their prayers.

Billy sat up suddenly and reached for the leather carryon bag he had dropped at his feet. He unzipped the side pocket, pulled out a handful of papers and flipped through them until he found the pamphlet he was looking for. On the cover was a picture of a deliriously happy couple gazing at a very pregnant belly, and blue letters at the top read "The Facts About Gestational Surrogacy." David Alexander, the network executive he had gone to L.A. to meet, had given it to him after a late-night meeting about _Restless Style _somehow turned personal, with each man confiding their similar struggles to start a family.

The next night, Billy had joined David and his wife for dinner at their home. He met their three-year-old son and learned that they were expecting a daughter in July, both the results of invitro and gestational surrogacy. He left that night full from a good meal and with tons of information on the process and the best doctors and legal issues. It wouldn't be a quick or painless fix, but it was hope and possibility, two things Billy had been void of since that night Adam told them Chelsea had lied about her baby's paternity, the night he watched Victoria lose yet another child.

This was the route they should have looked into from the start, he thought as he skimmed the information on the pamphlet's interior. Surrogacy wasn't new to him; he had watched Cane and Lily and Mac go through it, and though initially unsupportive, he had seen with his own eyes the two perfect results. But he had been impatient and reckless, wanting desperately to ease Victoria's pain, to give her everything she deserved as quickly as possible, to just fix it. Instead, he had only caused her more heartache, and that was a guilt he carried heavily and even wallowed in on occasion.

As a man he was still very much a work in progress, still learning to love without reacting impulsively to disappointment and to accept love and forgiveness as one deserving of it. He had spent so many years intentionally avoiding deep attachments, seeking only instant gratification, but Victoria had changed all that. Because of her, because of their love, he was learning to be the man he was always afraid to be, the man his father could be proud of, one who faced obstacles head-on with courage and hope.

So, when she got home tomorrow, he would let her know that he was ready. He was ready to put the past behind them and move forward. He was done grieving what wasn't meant to be, what he couldn't control, and when she was ready too, truly ready, they could move forward together, with surrogacy or even adoption again. All she had to do was come home.

Billy tossed the pamphlet back on the coffee table and took out his phone. There were messages from Jack and Chloe, but still nothing from Victoria. It was almost 7:00, almost 8:00 in Washington, and though he tried to ignore it, a tiny seed of worry was beginning to take hold in his brain.

He called her again, and again it went straight to voicemail. Her battery could be dead, or maybe she lost her phone, he rationalized. He searched his contacts and called the hotel she was staying at, but when the front desk connected him to her room, no one answered. He scrolled through his contacts once more until he found the one other place he could think to look.

After three rings a familiar male voice answered. "Hello."

"Hey man, it's Billy. I was wondering if Victoria was around. I haven't been able to reach her all day. I think maybe her phone's dead or something."

There was silence on the other end. "J.T.?"

"Uh, she's not here." Billy sensed confusion in J.T.'s voice and for a moment wondered if he had forgotten something, a reason why she was out of touch.

"Okay, well when you see her would you have her call me please? I need to ask her what time her plane gets in tomorrow."

"That's not what I mean, Billy. I mean she's not in D.C. She left yesterday." Again there was a moment silence, and he could hear J.T. talking to someone in the background, probably Mac. "Didn't she tell you?"

"I don't-I don't understand. What do you mean she left yesterday? Where did she go?"

"Look man, I don't know where she went. When she brought Reed home yesterday, she just said she needed some time away for a while, to clear her head or something. Didn't she tell you about this?"

Billy could barely hear a word J.T. said. Maybe it was a bad connection. Or maybe it was the pounding in his head. Or was the pounding in his chest? All the air seemed sucked from the room, and no matter how deep a breath he took, it wasn't enough. "What are you saying?"

"She took off. Said she'd be out of touch a couple days and then she'd call and set up a Skype schedule with Reed. I'm worried about her though. She seemed kinda off."

Billy laughed sarcastically and rubbed his eyes furiously, trying to stop the damn room from spinning. "You're worried about her? You sure as hell weren't worried about her when you ripped her kid away from her and took him halfway across the country."

"I know things have been rough for you guys." J.T.'s voice was full of sympathy and pity, both of which only fueled Billy's anger. "And I'm sorry, I'm really sor…."

Billy hung up the phone before he could say that word again. It wasn't true. What J.T. had said wasn't true. He called her again, but for the third time that day, he listened to her voice instruct him to leave a message. "Victoria, call me. Now. Please. I need to talk to you."

He called the hotel again and asked for her by name, but they only confirmed J.T.'s story. She checked out late yesterday and no, she left no messages, no forwarding address. He beat his phone against his head, forcing his brain to think, to think of anything, anyone he could call. Nikki, he could call Nikki. Or Nick. But wouldn't they have called him if they knew?

He didn't know what to do. His hands were shaking, and the pounding was worse. His chest was painfully tight, and through stinging eyes, he caught a glimpse of the deliriously happy couple and the blue letters. He gritted his teeth hard, refusing the tears that threatened. She couldn't be gone. He wouldn't let her be gone.

With his trembling hands, he made one last call.

* * *

He was wearing a path into the living room floor. He was aware of it, but couldn't stop. He couldn't stop moving because if he did the thoughts, all the bad thoughts, and the worries and fears and questions and worst-case scenarios would suffocate him. They nearly were anyway, so he just kept moving. It was all he could do besides wait.

He reached the fireplace once again and gave the portrait hanging above it a quick glance before turning to continue his futile trek. When he was halfway across the room, the laptop on the beer bottle laden coffee table dinged, and he quickly backtracked and forcefully threw the upper half of his body across the back of the sofa. "Did you find her?"

"No," Kevin snapped as his fingers continued attacking the keyboard, "and I'm not going to find her if you keep asking me every ten minutes."

"You've been at this over an hour. You haven't found anything?"

"I didn't say that," he sighed and shifted uneasily in his seat. "She hasn't used her credit cards since she checked out of the hotel, and her bank accounts haven't been touched, which means…"

"Which means what?" Billy demanded.

"Which means she's probably using cash. And I'm trying to track her cell phone, but there's a block on the GPS." Kevin stopped typing and turned to look at the fidgeting man behind him. "She planned this, Billy. Victoria planned to disappear, and it's clear she doesn't want to be found."

Billy buried his face in his hands and tried to understand what Kevin was saying to him. But the words didn't make sense. Victoria wouldn't just leave without an explanation; that was his specialty. He racked his brain trying to remember their last conversation, how she sounded, what they'd said. Had he said something or missed something? The harder he tried to remember, the less he could.

"You have to find her, Kevin," he pleaded. "I swear I will never so much as breathe the word chipmunk around you again if you just find her. I…I need to see her and just…just talk to her."

Kevin offered him a quick, sympathetic smile and turned his attention back to the laptop. "There is good news," he said. "The block on her phone, it's a pretty amateur job, so I can get around it. Give me a little time."

Billy slapped him gratefully on the shoulder and stood, full of renewed hope and focus. Wherever she was and whatever her reason for going, it didn't matter. All that mattered was he find her and fix it.

"Where would she go? Where would she go?" he wondered out loud as he resumed pacing the living room floor. "Italy. Gotta be Italy. She lived there. She loves it there. It's where she went the last time-that whole thing with her brother and her father. Um, where was it? Not Rome. Not Milan. Florence. It was Florence. She's gotta be in Florence."

"That would be kinda obvious though, wouldn't it?" Kevin asked. "I mean if she doesn't want to be found, why would she go to the same place she did last time?"

"Ok, so maybe not Italy. Maybe Jamaica. She loves Jamaica, too. She loves the rum and the beach and the… the limbo bar. Or Japan. She likes Tokyo, and she knows people there." As Billy continued to ramble, digging through every memory in search of the smallest clue, the computer dinged again, but he was oblivious to it.

"Uh, she's not in Tokyo, Billy," Kevin said. "Or Jamaica. Or Florence."

Billy froze in his tracks and flashed his famous Abbott smile. "You found her? Oh man, I owe you big time. Where is she? I'll be on the next flight out."

Kevin closed the laptop and hesitated. "I'm not so sure you want to know."

"C'mon man, where is she?" His smile faded into confusion at Kevin's behavior. "This is my wife we're talking about."

"She's in New Mexico," he finally sighed. "Victoria's in San Pueblo, New Mexico."


	6. Chapter 6

_June 8 2012_

Phyllis craned her neck and peered into the living room through a narrow opening the drawn curtains failed to cover. All of the lights in the house were off, but she could definitely make out the sound of muffled voices coming from the television. He was in there. He had to be in there. His car was in the driveway, and he sure as hell wasn't at _Restless Style_. She shifted the binder she was holding to her free hand and pounded on the green door even harder than she had the first time.

Part of her hoped he wasn't home despite her need to see him. When this little task came up, everyone else at the office suddenly had something urgent to do, everyone except Chloe who just flat-out refused, saying she had dealt with him enough in the last week and her showing up about work would only lead to another argument over Delia. Besides, Chloe had pointed out, Phyllis was the editor-in-chief. It was clearly her responsibility to deal with the boss.

When her second knock received the same lack of attention as the first, Phyllis fought the urge to bolt, and instead followed her gut and, remembering her last-minute promise to Victoria, her conscience. She grasped the door's handle and pressed down on the lever until it clicked and the door inched open.

"Billy? You home?" she called out, taking a tentative step inside. Her nose was immediately assaulted by a pungent mix of mustiness, decaying food, and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. On the sofa, a lump tangled in pink chenille, illuminated by the light from the television, stirred and then bolted upright.

"Victoria?" Billy shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight pouring through the front door. Phyllis watched uneasily as he struggled to get his bearings, the expression on his face morphing from confused hope to devastation as he realized the figure standing in his doorway was not his wife. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.

"Uh, sorry to disturb your…um…well whatever it is you're doing, but I need you to sign-off on this issue before we send it to print next week." Leaving the door open for a quick escape, she took two steps forward and held the binder out to him.

"The magazine? You came here about the magazine?" He let out a sardonic laugh and picked through the beer bottles that, along with pizza boxes and half-eaten sandwiches, littered the coffee table until he found one that wasn't empty and took a drink. "Phyllis, I don't care what you put in that magazine."

"Yes, you do, Billy. You care," she said and took another step closer. He responded by taking another long drink from the beer bottle and then fell back against the couch. He clearly hadn't shaved, maybe even showered, since she last saw him a week ago, and though his clothes were different, they weren't clean. "Come on, Billy. Don't be a prick about this. You have a daughter who needs you. A lot of people need you."

"They're better off without me. Victoria just figured it out sooner than the rest of'em."

"No, they're not. They're not better off without you. And you can't blame yourself for Victoria leaving."

He slowly sat back up and hit the off button on the remote control, and for the first time Phyllis noticed he was gripping something, a crumpled piece of paper, in his beer-free hand. "Oh I can't blame myself? Really? Then who should I blame, Phyllis?" He was clearly agitated, and despite the fake, overly animated grin plastered across his face, his eyes flashed at her with anger. "I know. Victor. I can blame Victor. That's always a safe bet. Or maybe…hmm…" He tapped the beer bottle against his head as if he were deep in thought. "You. Yeah you…you were the one who came in here, right here in my house, and just…took our daughter away from us. Just grabbed that baby right outta Victoria's arms. And you're not even ashamed, are you?"

Phyllis hugged the binder close to her, using it as armor against his tirade. There was no use trying to reason with him, not now, not while he was like this. And truthfully, he wasn't saying a lot she could argue with.

"But then Lucy's my fault," he continued, more dejected than angry. "I'm the jackass who bought her, paid two million dollars and then promised Victoria, _promised_ her she'd be ours forever. And when that didn't work out? I left her, let her think I didn't want her anymore."

"She forgave you for those things, Billy," Phyllis said quietly.

"You can leave now." He drained what was left in the beer bottle down his throat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Phyllis made a move to leave but changed her mind, suddenly infuriated by his behavior and the mess of a situation she had gotten herself into. "You know women make mistakes too, right? We have demons and need space and understanding and forgiveness."

"I told you to GO," he spat.

"The best thing you can do right now is be a grown-up. Give her the time she gave you."

"DAMMIT, PHYLLIS. LEAVE." He startled them both by smashing the empty beer bottle against the edge of the coffee table. The bottom half shattered and fell to the floor, while the jagged neck remained in his hand.

"You're just making Victor right about you, you know. You're just making Victor right."

Phyllis shook her head in disgust and marched to the door, slamming it hard behind her. Outside, she took a deep, cleansing breath and leaned her back against the green door. "Oh, Victoria," she said to herself, "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

Billy gazed into his freshly-poured tumbler of scotch, mesmerized by the way the amber liquid changed color in the soft glow of the lamp. He had moved on to the hard stuff since this morning, since his visit from Phyllis, since that one fleeting moment he thought she had come back to him. It was almost funny how remembering she was gone hurt just as much as learning she had left him. That's where the scotch came in. It was his medicine, his numbing agent against the excruciating pain.

He brought the glass containing his latest dose to his lips and downed it in one gulp, savoring the slow burn that traveled down his throat to his stomach, where the warmth spread out like an electric blanket. Was this how she felt last summer? Was this the pain she felt when she realized he had made love to her and then vanished without saying a word? He returned the tumbler to the cluttered coffee table and his eyes settled on the crumpled piece of paper virtually glued to his other hand. It wasn't the same pain, because she at least had the decency to say goodbye.

Billy smoothed the edges of the postcard he had received last Saturday, one of four she had sent, as Kevin later told him. The other three went to her mother, Nicholas, and Abby. His was a picture of the nation's capitol at sunset, the black silhouette of the Washington Monument in the foreground and "Washington, D.C." in white cursive letters across the bottom. It was just a generic postcard, but it was still classier than the way he had left.

Although he had already memorized every word on the reverse side, he flipped it over and read them again anyway:

Billy,

I've always been jealous of your way with words, but never more than right now. I need some time alone, and I'm not sure when I'll be back. Please try to understand, but if you can't… take care of yourself.

Love,

Victoria

P.S. I'm not trying to break us. Look beyond the horizon.

Billy crushed the postcard between his hands and sent the resulting wad sailing across the room. It was her handwriting, but the words, they didn't make sense. It wasn't her. He rubbed his bearded face roughly and wondered if it was too soon for another shot of medicine, but as he reached for the bottle, he heard a gentle rapping at the front door.

"I told you to do whatever the hell you want with the magazine, Phyllis," he yelled from where he sat.

The door opened slowly, and for the second time today, someone unexpected walked in. "It's not Phyllis," a soft voice said. "Can I come in?"

Billy staggered to his feet at the sight of his mother-in-law, dressed neatly in royal blue, her hair swept back off her face. Her appearance made him suddenly and shamefully aware of how he must look. "I'm not really in the mood for a lecture or anything."

"I didn't come here for that," she smiled, letting the door shut behind her. "I just thought that with Jill still in Australia I'd come by and see how you are."

"Not in the mood for that either."

"That's okay. To be honest, I just wanted to be around someone who loves her as much as I do."

Nikki took an uninvited seat on the sofa, and Billy joined her, no longer caring about his appearance or what she must think about the disaster area he had turned her daughter's home into. It was too late to do anything about that anyway.

"Why don't you pour me one of those?" Nikki gestured towards the empty tumbler and bottle of scotch in front of them.

"I know what you're doing."

"The same thing you are," she retorted, picking up the bottle of brown liquid. "Only, I generally prefer vodka. But this will do the trick."

"I'm not pouring you a drink. Victoria would kill me."

"Well, Victoria's not here, is she? So she doesn't get a vote."

"Uh uh." Billy shook his head and grabbed the bottle from her hands as she started to loosen the cap. "She wouldn't want you to ruin your sobriety because of her."

Nikki leaned towards him and put her hands gently, but deliberately on either side of his disheveled head, her blue eyes piercing his. "And she wouldn't want this for you."

He saw in her eyes kindness and determination and truth he couldn't escape. As hard as he tried to fight it, his lip began to quiver and hot tears spilled from his eyes. "I just miss her," he cried, finally, violently releasing the dam of emotion he'd been suppressing for a week. "I miss her so damn much."

"I know," she whispered, releasing him from her grip, pulling him to her as tears of her own began to flow. "I miss her too."

After what seemed like an eternity, Billy calmed himself and pulled out of the embrace. "Do you think she took it as a sign?" He quickly wiped his eyes, embarrassed by the show of emotion, and eased himself back against the sofa. "Us losing another baby. Do you think she took it as a sign that we shouldn't be together?"

"Oh, Billy. No, I don't think that at all."

"Then why'd she leave?" It was the question that had haunted him since J.T. told him she took off, and so far, every answer he had come up with pointed directly at his failings as a husband.

"I think her heart's broken, and she didn't want to burden us with her grief." Nikki dabbed her own eyes with a tissue from her purse, careful not to smudge her makeup. "You know, as a mother, you always want to protect your kids from pain, but there are just some things you can't kiss and make better, not that Victoria would let me anyway," she laughed through new tears. "Even as kids, Nicholas would come to me with every bump and bruise, but not my Victoria. No, she'd fall down and get right back up like nothing happened. You only knew she was really hurt when she'd go off by herself."

He could picture her that way, as a little girl, running off to lick her wounds, afraid to let anyone see her as weak. She did it as an adult too. Billy looked at his hand, his eyes automatically seeking out the scar left from the night he fought with Victor, a permanent reminder of how he'd once again done the wrong thing, and even worse, a reminder of the night before when he'd found her crying alone in the empty nursery that, abandoned mid redecoration, still housed memories of both Lucy and the new life they had expected. She hadn't seen him watching outside the nursery door, and so he never told her that that was what had driven him to seek revenge on his father-in-law.

"I should have handled it different. The baby thing. Losing Lucy. If I had just handled it different, she wouldn't be gone."

"And maybe if I had been here last summer instead of in rehab," Nikki said boldly, "I could have helped you both through it."

"You were sick. Victoria understood that. She wanted you to get better."

"Yes. Exactly. Victoria understood. She's always been very understanding of both of us, hasn't she? And now she needs some time alone, and as much as it hurts me that I can't help her, that she doesn't want me to help her, I am trying to be understanding."

"But she's not alone," Billy glowered. "She's with Sam."

"You don't honestly think she went to New Mexico to be with him romantically, do you?" Nikki scrunched her face in disbelief at his insinuation.

"No. Yes. I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. She said he was just a friend, but…" But when Kevin had told him she was in New Mexico, all he could see was the image of Victoria in Sam's arms, a strange man carrying her to their bedroom, and he felt that same pang of jealousy, self-righteous considering the months Victoria had lived with the thought of Chelsea carrying his child.

"Now you listen to me. I never met this Sam fellow, and Victoria only mentioned him to me once, and that was about how she got Keely." Nikki put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and looked at him pointedly. "There is only one man my daughter has eyes for, and that is you. You give her a couple of weeks riding horses in the desert, and she'll be right back here to tell you that herself."

"What if she doesn't come back?" It was his greatest fear, and each day that passed, it seemed more and more likely.

"She came back the last time she left."

Billy stroked the overgrown scruff on his jaw line as a weary laugh escaped his lips. "She was gone for over a year last time, Nikki, and she only came back because Jack lured her with the CEO job at Jabot."

"But she didn't have anything to come back for last time, Billy," she said impatiently, trying her best to convince him. "She didn't have Reed, and she didn't have you. She loves you. Don't doubt that and don't you give up on her."

"I'm trying," Billy insisted, his eyes watering again. "I just don't know what to do."

Nikki offered him her hand, and he squeezed it appreciatively. "The way I see it, you have three choices. One, you keep doing what you're doing. Keep drinking and playing the woulda, coulda, shoulda game, but I don't think that's a very good idea. Or two, you make it through. You keep busy with work and with that precious little girl of yours until she gets back. And she will be back."

"And option three?"

Nikki reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. "Option three," she said and handed it to him. "I got Sam's phone number and address from Nicholas, who got it from Sharon. In case you can't live with option two."

Billy stared at the neatly printed numbers and letters. This was where she was, and he could go there and see her, ask her the questions he wanted the answers to. Or beg her to come back. He could tell about the surrogacy, tell that her that they could still have a baby, that he'd do anything she wanted. But if she wasn't ready, if she didn't want to see him, then what?

"Now, I didn't want to say this before," Nikki said, disturbing his train of thought, "but you stink." Billy laughed at her bluntness, and it felt surprisingly good. "I want you to march upstairs and take a hot shower and put on something nice. I have an AA meeting tonight, and you are going with me. I won't take no for an answer."

"I'm not an alcoholic, Nikki."

"No, I don't think so either. But you could use some perspective, and I could use the company. Katherine's off with Murphy tonight. You're my second choice. Now, go." She pulled him from the sofa, and he didn't put up a fight as she scooted him towards the stairs. "And while you're up there, I'll see what I can do about this mess."

"You don't have to do this, you know." He paused at the bottom of the stairs. "You don't have to take care of me."

"Yes, I do. You're my son-in-law," she smiled. "And besides, having someone to mother will help me get through this."

Billy returned her smile as a look of understanding passed between them. She had showed up tonight to help him, to pull him out of the bottle, but she had also come to save herself. She loved Victoria as much as he did, missed her as much as he did. He would need Nikki to make it through option two, and she was counting on him To do the same for her.

"Thanks…Mom," he said and bounded up the stairs.

* * *

A flurry of activity greeted Billy when the _Restless Style_ elevator rattled open bright and early Monday morning. To an outsider, the scene would appear a disorganized, chaotic mess, but to him, it was just another day at the office, another dance of the approaching deadline set to a symphony of ringing phones, feverish typing and frantic shouting. This was his empire, his source of pride, his rush of adrenaline, and on more than one occasion, a major pain in the ass. But now, and for the foreseeable future, he was counting on it to be his life raft.

As he stepped off the elevator, the buzz of activity quieted to a hum as the first pairs of eyes caught sight of him and then faded to a deafening silence as every eye in the room turned in his direction. They all knew, he knew that. They all knew that his wife had left him and that he had spent the last week drowning his sorrows in alcohol. And now they were probably wondering why he was here. Had he come to make them as miserable as he was? Or had he come to announce he was abandoning them like he did last time his life went off the rails?

"What? Is my tie crooked? My fly open?" he quipped. But his attempt to diffuse the awkward tension fell flat, and Billy accepted that humbly. They deserved more from him than a wisecrack.

"I, uh, I know I've been MIA lately." He cleared his throat and jammed his hands in his pockets as he felt his face redden in discomfort. "But I'm back now, and I'm ready to get down to business. So…if we could just…get to work, that would be much appreciated."

With smiling nods of approval and sympathetic slaps on the back, his employees graciously accepted the request and returned to the chaos without missing a beat, leaving Billy to tackle his next mission of the day-the fiery redhead eyeing him suspiciously from her desk.

"I, uh, decided to give that whole 'grown-up' thing a shot," he said as he approached her, "so if it's not too late, I'd like to take a look at the next issue."

"Of course," she nodded and stood. "I'll go get it."

"Oh and Phyllis? I'm sorry about the other day. I know you were only trying to help."

"Already forgotten, boss." She smiled as she walked away, but Billy sensed a jumpiness about her that suggested she wasn't quite convinced of his new 'grown-up' attitude. It would take time to make up the last week to some people, and for others, he thought as his petite ex marched angrily past him, he would need divine intervention.

"Chloe?" She spun around at the sound of her name, ready to battle, ready to give him hell for his parental failings yet again. And he couldn't blame her, not after they almost lost her. "I just want to apologize for my behavior the last few days, for not being there for Delia. It was immature and irresponsible, and no matter what else I… no matter what else I may be going through, I want to be there for her. It was a momentary lapse, and it won't happen again. I won't let it happen again."

She wanted to be mad at him, probably out of habit, but he could see her anger fade as he finished the speech he had practiced on the drive to work. "It's okay," she finally huffed. "And it better not happen again."

"Never," he reiterated, crossing his heart for added proof. "And I know it's short notice, but do you think I could have her tonight. I thought we would take Keely to the park and then maybe watch a movie at home. If it's too short notice, I understand."

Chloe rolled her eyes at him, but the hint of a smile flashed across her face. "It is really short notice," she stated bluntly. "But your daughter misses you, so sure. Fine. Take her."

She bolted before the words 'thank you' even formed on his lips, but he made the short walk to his desk grateful, grateful that she had forgiven him yet again and that, though he still felt Victoria's absence deeply and painfully, he had at least one good thing to look forward to.

So far today, he had made it to work, clean, sober and dressed. He had made amends with the people he had wronged, a little piece of wisdom from Nikki's AA meeting. Now he had only one thing left to do-figure out how in the hell to survive without Victoria, how to give her time and make it through each day, constantly fighting the urge to just go to her. Her smiling face stared at him from the photograph on his desk, both a comfort and a painful reminder that a photograph was all he had. He hoped he was doing right by her, and he prayed that when she came back, if she came back, she would still love him.

* * *

Victoria watched the final leg of her journey roll past her from the train window, thankful that in less than an hour she would be done traveling for a while and would be able to spend more than two nights in the same place. It had been one of Phyllis' friend Tony's instructions to hop around for a while, varying her modes of transportation from city to city. Tony was definitely good at making people disappear, but the emotional toll some of his ideas took on her seemed far greater than the small fortune she had paid him.

She sighed softly and turned from the window as a row of fence posts too close to the train track generated a bout of motion sickness. Everything about the last few weeks had moved at the same nauseating speed as the train. Too fast to focus. Too fast to make the right decision, not that there was one in her case.

From her purse, Victoria pulled out one of her most prized possessions, the row of four photographs Billy had secretly taken on their first date. She smiled longingly at his silly faces, at the recollection of his first shy admission of love to her. It was hard to believe they had ever been so uncertain about their feelings for each other, but even harder to believe she would risk what they had, especially after last year.

"It's just for a little while," she gently reminded them both. But the truth was, the more miles and lies she put between them, the harder it became to imagine him ever saying those words to her again.

Across the aisle, a baby cooed, and Victoria turned to see a beautiful little girl with olive skin and clear green eyes flashing a toothy grin as she gleefully bounced back and forth between her parents. Victoria smiled at the happy family while her hand instinctively moved to her abdomen, touching the place where her own baby was growing inside her. Could she even dare to hope for such a moment for herself? Only then would all of this be worth it.

Outside, the train rolled past a stretch of countryside that could easily be mistaken for Wisconsin. Much of this last leg reminded her of home, until they would pass a quaint ancient village or a sign written in Italian, and she would again be reminded how far she was from Genoa City and how close she was to the only other place she had ever considered home, Florence.


	7. Chapter 7

Just a note, I went back and added an explanation of this story's genesis to Chapter 1. Hope that helps it make sense. Also, what anyone reading has probably already noticed, the state of the show at the time I started writing it stays consistent throughout my story, i.e. Summer is still a little girl, Jack and Nikki are together, things like that. There are 18 chapters in all, and after the two I'm posting now (7 & 8), there is a flashback in time in Chapter 9, that will sort of explain some things better. Anyway, hope you're enjoying and thanks for reading.

_September 8, 2012_

"Watch me, Daddy."

Billy jerked his head up from where he sat dangling his legs in the shallow end, his daughter's squeaky, demanding voice snapping him out of a momentary trance. Across the length of the pool, Delia was once again climbing the steps to the diving board, and as instructed, he watched her walk slowly, but excitedly to the end of the arching board, bounce once, and then leap fearlessly into the shimmering water.

The afternoon sun beat hot against Billy's face and shoulders, a not-so-subtle reminder that it was technically still summer despite the unmistakable hint of fall in the air. This would probably be their last weekend of the year spent poolside, a fact he dreaded breaking to the little girl currently pushing herself upward to the water's surface. But he wouldn't tell her yet, not until he had to, and then he would soothe her disappointment with the promise of weekly trips to the club's indoor pool.

"Did you see me?" Delia shouted as soon as her head emerged from the water. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she kept them closed until she had wiped away the unwanted water.

"Did I see you? Of course I saw you."

"What's my score?" It was their game of the moment, the one they had played every pool day since the Olympics. Instead of the gymnasts, who Billy figured most little girls longed to emulate, his daughter had become fascinated with the divers and mimicked them as best she could in her own version of their sport, recruiting her father as judge and sometime participant.

"Hmm." Billy rubbed his chin and put on his most official judge's face. "Nice form. Good height. Splash was awesome. I give it a solid 9.5."

Delia beamed at his assessment and filled her lungs with air before sinking below the surface again. As Billy watched her blurry, distorted figure swim impressively towards him, all those lessons and hours logged in the pool paying off, he couldn't help but think about how far she'd come since last year. Only a year ago she had been diagnosed with leukemia. Only a year ago she had been stuck in the hospital fighting for her life, her tiny body poked and prodded daily, and he…well, he hadn't been here to hold her hand or make her laugh when she needed it the most.

Right on cue, Billy felt the guilt and self-loathing rise within him, but as Delia resurfaced at his feet, grinning and breathless, he simply let it go. He couldn't change the past, he reminded himself. All that mattered was now, and now, she was happy and healthy and strong.

"Who wants lemonade?" a raspy, cheerful voice called out as Billy used one muscled arm to pull his daughter from the pool. The pair turned their heads just as Jill stepped onto the Chancellor patio, carefully balancing a tray and three full glasses in her hands.

"I do. I do," Delia screamed and abandoned her father in favor of her grandmother's offering.

"Me too, me too." Billy mimicked her high-pitched squeal as he reluctantly pulled his feet from the warm water and stood, grabbing his daughter's forgotten towel as he did.

"OH MY GOD BILLY," Jill suddenly screamed. She stood petrified, her hands still gripping the tray, her eyes enormous and fixed on Delia. "She's bleeding. We have to take her to the hospital."

Trying his best not to panic, Billy raced across the patio to the wrought-iron table and chairs where the pair stood. He knelt in front of the confused little girl and looked her over. Water dripped from her hair, and her bathing suit, the modest tankini he had insisted on, was twisted and out of place in spots, revealing the secret he had almost forgotten about.

"No, she's not, Mom," he groaned and flashed Delia a strained, knowing smile. "She's fine. I promise, she's fine."

"It's my tattoo, Grandma. See?" The little girl raised her bathing suit top higher, exposing her belly and the red and black design that covered it.

"Billy! You let her get a tattoo? Are you crazy?"

"You think I let her get a tattoo? Really?" Billy matched his mother's outrage with mock outrage of his own. "Of course I didn't let her get a tattoo. Geez. I just maybe…might have… fallen asleep during the princess movie we watched last night, and well…she maybe got into some permanent markers, which I didn't even know were in the house, by the way."

"It's just like Daddy's," Delia piped up, clearly proud of the giant red heart she had copied from her father's shoulder as he slept. But unlike Billy's tattoo, hers was upside down, drawn from her perspective, and the letters she had scribbled inside didn't quite spell the name that graced the center of his.

Billy tapped her on the nose and quickly wrapped her towel around her shoulders, once again covering their little secret. He hadn't scolded her for it last night and didn't intend to. The gesture, wanting to be like him, was touching, but the reminder of his own tattoo stirred feelings he'd rather not acknowledge. Behind him, the metal tray clanged against the table, and he stood, ready to face his mother and whatever criticism she felt he deserved for letting it happen. But instead of being angry and ready to lecture, Jill had her hands clasped tight over her mouth, the laughter she was struggling to suppress clearly evident in her eyes.

"Chloe's going to kill you," she finally spilled, doubling over in a fit of laughter that soon infected Delia.

"Heh, heh, heh," Billy muttered. "Tell me something I don't know."

As the laughter faded, the three generations each claimed a seat around the table and fell into easy conversation over lemonade. Delia chattered away about her first week of school, and Jill, only a few days home from Australia, told her granddaughter all about her trip. But while he heard occasional words like 'recess' and 'kangaroo,' Billy had no idea what they were talking about. He had zoned out again, his eyes focused on the painfully clear blue sky above. It really was the perfect late summer/pre-fall day, the perfect mix of what was and what was to come. He leaned back in his chair and let his eyes drift shut, the warm sun and cool breeze instantly transporting him to another perfect day almost exactly two years ago, the day he stood on his front porch and watched Victoria walk towards him, both of them ready to promise forever.

"Daddy?" Billy opened his eyes and turned to his daughter, simultaneously thankful and disappointed she had interrupted his daydream. "Now that Grandma's back, is Victoria gonna be back soon?"

It was the question she asked at least once a day, and every single time, it stung him into silence. Often, it came out of nowhere, but this time it felt as if she had crawled into his subconscious and plucked it from his own thoughts.

"I don't-I'm not sure, sweetheart. Remember we talked about that."

It was his stock answer, and he delivered it in the same cool, practiced tone that he always used, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her this time. The little girl scrunched her face, and Billy imagined she was recalling the explanation he had given her three months ago, that Victoria was helping a friend who lived far away and she would be back just as soon as she could. It was the same story J.T. had told Reed, a simple, age-appropriate version of the truth as they knew it.

"But I miss her. Doesn't she want to be with us anymore?"

His stock answer hadn't been enough this time, and why should it have been? It wasn't enough for him either. Billy cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. He opened his mouth to answer her, but closed it when no words would come. He glanced across the table to his mother, whose concerned, pained expression he had purposefully avoided until now.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jill said and pulled the little girl to her, "of course she wants to be with you. She loves you and your daddy so much. It's just that…sometimes we have to be away from the people we love, like when I was in Australia helping your Uncle Phillip."

Billy hadn't meant the glance to be an SOS, but when he saw Delia nod and accept Jill's explanation, he was grateful she had taken it that way, that she had stepped in and saved him.

"Now," Jill smiled as she swept a strand of wet hair off her granddaughter's face, "why don't you run inside and see if Grandma Esther has a chocolate chip cookie to go with that lemonade."

Delia's eyes lit up at the suggestion, and when Billy nodded his approval, she took off for the house, her towel flowing behind her like a cape.

"You okay?" Jill asked when the little girl was out of earshot.

"Me? Oh yeah. I'm just -I'm peachy. I haven't heard from my wife in months, and I can't explain it to my daughter because frankly, I don't understand it myself. Other than that…"

"Oh, Billy, I should have come back as soon as I heard."

"There was nothing you could have done." He waved off her regret and picked up his glass of lemonade, more than ready to drop the subject. "Besides I had plenty of people lining up to play babysitter while you were gone."

"Oh, like Nikki?" Jill scoffed. "Katherine told me all about how she swooped in to play mother to you. I swear that woman never passes up the opportunity to stick it to me."

Billy rolled his eyes at her dramatics. Nikki _had_ been there for him, he couldn't deny it. She checked on him everyday, invited him and Delia to cookouts at Jack's, and even dragged him to a few more of her meetings when Katherine was busy. But he also didn't want to hurt his mother. He recognized that her indignant façade was only a cover for her own insecurities, the guilt she felt at not being there for him, this time and all the other times in his life. Guilt was something he understood, something he had clearly inherited from her.

"Yeah, Nikki's been great, Mom. Kinda like how you were there for Victoria last year when I was gone and Nikki was in rehab. Victoria, uh, she told me how concerned you were for her, how you stepped up. It meant a lot to her, and to me."

"Why don't you call her?" Jill's voice was soft and sincere, a combination that made him feel caged in, like he couldn't breathe.

"Who? Nikki?" he quipped in an attempt to change the course of the conversation. "You want to invite over to our little pool party? That's so nice of you, Mom. I'll go call her."

He made a move to escape, but Jill leaned across the table and put a halting hand on his, refusing to let him off easy.

"Victoria. Why don't you call her, talk to her?"

Billy let out an exasperated sigh and pulled his hand away from her. Just when he thought it was over, all the concerned people asking how he was coping, trying to get him to talk about it, to express his feelings, his mother had to return from Australia to get her turn in, to start the process over again. He silently prayed for a meteor or some natural disaster to hit the patio, anything to prevent her from stirring up all those questions and emotions and longings again.

"I know what tomorrow is," Jill said, twisting the knife further.

"Yeah, it's Sunday," he snapped, his frustration getting the better of him.

"It's your anniversary. Well, of the first wedding anyway, your first real wedding, and I know that-"

"Oh, please. You didn't even want us to get married. Katherine dragged you to that wedding."

"You're right, Billy," she said, raising her voice to meet the volume and intensity of his. "But I was wrong. You and Victoria, you're good for each other. You make each other happy, and I just don't understand why you're being so damn stubborn about this."

"I'm being stubborn?" he laughed. "Because it seems to me she's the one who doesn't want to talk to me."

"Is that how it was when you were gone? Huh? Did you only stay away because of Victor? Or was part of you just so afraid she wouldn't forgive you for leaving in the first place? Huh? Maybe that's how she's feeling. And maybe if you just…just reach out to her, Billy…"

He leaned back in his chair as Jill let her plea linger in the air between them. He had meant for this to be a fun, relaxed day, and now he was tense and agitated. He was angry at her for bringing it all up again and at himself for handling it wrong. But mostly, he was upset because she was making him think, making him second-guess his decision to be patient and just wait it out. He clenched his fist tight and pounded the thin arm of his chair hard.

"What is it?" Jill begged. "Talk to me. Let me help you."

"It's just… I thought she'd be back by now." His confession was soft and low, barely audible. He gritted his teeth to stave off any unwanted emotion as he continued. "Nikki keeps saying she'll come back, and I want to believe her."

"But?"

"But," he sighed, "something doesn't feel right. I know she left before, everybody keeps telling me that. And they've known her longer, but I can't-I can't shake this feeling that there's a puzzle piece missing or something. Maybe I'm just hoping there is," he shrugged.

"No," Jill said and shook her head vehemently. "Victoria thought the same thing when you were gone. She knew there was a reason you couldn't come back. That's why she went looking for you even when everybody else had given up. Even me."

"So, you think she's in a foreign prison? Is that what you're saying?"

"No," she smiled at his attempt at humor, "but there's only one way to find out. Call her, Billy. Go to her."

He looked away, and when he didn't answer her, she threw her hands up, exasperated.

"She went to Myanmar for you, for God's sake. You don't even have to leave the country to find her."

Before either of them could say anything else, the patio door swung open, and Delia reappeared, her towel newly secured under her arms, a stack of cookies in one hand and a half-eaten one in the other. Billy held open his arms, and she climbed into his lap and stuffed the half-eaten cookie in his waiting mouth.

"Can I spend the night here?" she asked as Billy used his hand to wipe chocolate from the corners of her mouth. "Grandma Esther said I could."

"I think that is a wonderful idea," Jill blurted, taking advantage of Billy's occupied mouth. "I can finish telling Delia about my trip, and Daddy here can take care of that very, very important thing we discussed."

Billy glared lightheartedly at his mother who, along with Delia, was already celebrating the plan.

"Plus," she laughed, "I bet Esther has just the thing to get rid of a certain 'tattoo.'

* * *

Even after all these weeks, Billy still couldn't walk through the front door of their house without expecting she'd be there, hoping she had come back while he was out. Tonight was no different. He held his keys tight in the palm of his hand to keep them from jingling and made himself a statue, silent, unmoving, just listening for the slightest indication that at any moment she'd come rushing down the stairs or bursting through the dining room doors.

But the only sign of life that greeted him came from the sofa where Keely sat up alert, suspicious and ultimately disappointed at who had walked through the door. Billy didn't take it personally; they had both been hoping for someone else.

"It's just you and me again tonight." Billy let his keys drop noisily onto the coffee table and plopped down next to the dog. He hadn't been able to say no to either his daughter or his mother, and since he had taken care of all his work in order to give Delia his undivided attention, he officially had nothing to do tonight.

He patted his leg, urging the furry creature closer. Keely complied and laid his head on Billy's thigh, but he did it without his usual enthusiasm. Billy buried his hands in the soft fur and turned the dogs face to his own. "You miss her too, don't you?"

It had been sixteen weeks. Sixteen weeks since he'd driven her to the airport, given her a kiss and watched her walk away. Sixteen weeks. It seemed like yesterday and a million years ago all at once. And yet, somehow he had survived. He had taken Nikki's advice and thrown himself into work, rededicating himself to the magazine, putting the T.V. show on hold for a while. When he wasn't at work, he was with Delia, still making up for lost time. But while the magazine kept him busy and Delia kept him going, it wasn't enough. A huge part of him was missing, and he was reminded of it every second of every day. There wasn't a corner of the house that didn't hold a memory of her, of them. He had thought about staying at the trailer, but she was there too, locked in a bathroom, celebrating her independence from Victor, watching fireworks while making fireworks of their own. So, he had stayed in the house, where Delia would be more comfortable, where he could wait for her to come home.

It surprised him the things he missed most about her, the little things that made her special, the little intimacies they shared that were suddenly no longer a part of his life. He missed walking into the bathroom after she'd taken a shower, the steam enveloping him with the scent of her shampoo. He missed the face she made when she was pissed about something and the soft laugh that escaped her lips when she was over it. He missed joking about 'baking cookies' and the way she draped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his collar or his hair. No woman had ever done that before. No woman had ever been such a part of his life, and the prospect that she never would be again was unsettling, to say the least.

"Don't give me that look," he said to the sad furry face looking up at him. "You think I should call Victoria too, don't you?"

At the sound of her name, Keely sat up and barked once at his owner.

"What if she doesn't want to talk?" he asked, and Keely whimpered. "You're right. That would suck. That would suck majorly…but then again, so does this."

He couldn't get Jill's words from earlier out of his head. He couldn't stop wondering if she was right, if he was right. What if there was something else? What if she was scared he wouldn't understand why she left, wouldn't forgive her? It was just enough of a possibility to give him hope.

Billy removed one hand from Keely's fur and reached into his pocket, retrieving his cell phone. He stared at it for a second, and then quickly, like removing a Band-Aid, called the number he hadn't called in sixteen weeks. His heart stopped when he heard her voice after the first ring and then sank when he realized that, just like last time, he had gotten her voicemail. She was still ignoring him, he assumed.

Or maybe her phone was dead. Or maybe she was riding in the desert, somewhere remote with no cell service. There were other possibilities, some he'd rather not think about. He could try again later or…

"Okay, okay," he huffed and struggled to his feet when Keely barked again. He was starting to think the dog could read his mind.

Billy walked to the dining room drawer where Nikki had put the only three things she saved the night she ordered him upstairs to take a shower. Opening the drawer, he saw first the wrinkled postcard she had smoothed flat again. Below that was the pamphlet with the blue letters his mother-in-law hadn't mentioned afterwards, and finally what he was looking for, the piece of paper with the neatly printed phone number and address.

He returned to the couch with the paper in hand and found Keely attentive and anxious, like he knew something good was about to happen. "I bet you're Team Sam, aren't you?" he chided the dog in playful disgust. "Just remember, he may have saved you from the pound, but I'm the one who keeps you in Kibble."

The dog cocked his head and then lay back in Billy's lap in a show of support. Billy picked up his phone again and took a deep breath before slowly punching in each number. It wasn't like he hadn't contemplated this before, because he had, on several occasions. He'd composed emails too, written and rewritten them, but never sent them.

His palms were sweating as he entered the last number, and he wiped them on his pants before hitting the 'send' button. At the first piercing ring, he nearly hung up. By the second ring, he had convinced himself no one was home. But halfway through the third ring, he heard a click followed by a woman's soft voice.

It wasn't Victoria. He was sure of that.

"Hello?" the voice said again. "Anyone there?"

"Uh, s-sorry," he stammered. "I think I have the wrong number. I was looking for a Sam. Sam Gibson."

"Oh, this is Sam's place. I'm his wife."

Billy wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "His wife? I didn't know Sam was married."

"Two months and counting," she laughed. "So, who should I tell my husband is calling?"

"I'm not actually looking for your husband. I'm looking for _my_ wife. Her name is—"

"You're Billy Abbott, aren't you?" Before he could answer she told him to hold on, and silence filled the other end of the line. His heart started racing. This new wife of Sam's, she was going to get Victoria, to tell her that her husband was on the phone. The next voice he heard would either be Victoria's or it would be Sam's wife again, telling him she didn't want to talk.

Only it was neither.

"I've been expecting your call." The voice was deep and male, and there was a slight country twang to it. It was the same voice he had heard in his living room the day he came snooping, the day he met the dog beside him. "Billy? You still there?"

"Uh, yeah. How did you know it was me?"

"I told that wife of yours you'd come looking for her." Sam's voice was friendly, and there was a hint of concern in it. Concern for him, he wondered? Or for Victoria?

"Is-is she there? Cause I'd like to talk to her."

"Naw, she's not here. Never was."

Billy ran his hand roughly through his hair, more confused than ever. "But I tracked her…I had somebody track her phone to your place."

"Oh yeah, her phone's here. Been sitting on my kitchen counter for months."

"I don't understand. Her phone's there, but she's not?"

Billy heard the other man sigh loudly and braced himself for whatever he was about to hear. Sam told him that Victoria called him out of the blue at the end of May, sounding upset and saying she needed some time to herself. She asked him for a favor, to let her send him her phone for a while. It was just to give her a head start, she had told him.

"Look, man," Sam added. "I didn't feel right about doing it, keeping this from you and her family. But she sounded desperate, and I sorta felt I owed her for being so nice to me last year, letting me stay with her. But I told her as soon as you called, and I knew you would sooner or later, I wouldn't lie for her."

Billy didn't say anything for a long time. Neither did Sam. He seemed to understand Billy was processing what he had just learned about his wife. When he finally did speak, Billy thanked Sam for telling him and asked if he would send him Victoria's phone as soon as possible.

"I'll overnight it," he said. "And Billy, I hope you find her."

"Me, too," Billy murmured as he ended the call.

He numbly tossed his phone beside him and sank into the softness of the couch, his other hand stilled buried in Keely's soft fur. Sixteen weeks, he thought. Sixteen weeks of worrying. Sixteen weeks of thinking the worst about where she was. It had been sixteen weeks, and he was back at square one. Only now he had even more questions, even more hurt. And now, he was even more determined to find her.


	8. Chapter 8

September 9, 2012

Billy looked up from the mountain of mail in front of him and rubbed his tired, strained eyes until moisture returned to them and the blurriness subsided. Across from him, Kevin continued to squint at his laptop, his hands alternating between typing and scrolling. They had been at this for hours, this searching, starting almost immediately after his phone call with Sam last night, stopping only to get a few hours of restless sleep. When they reconvened this morning, they'd had to move their base of operations to Crimson Lights so Kevin could cover for a sick barista. Besides them, the place was all but deserted, standard for Sunday mornings Kevin had told him.

"You find anything?" He asked as he reached for one of the two mugs in the center of the table and took a drink. The coffee was cold and stale, but he didn't care; he just needed the caffeine

"Uh-uh. You?"

"Well, she's been pre-approved for about a million credit cards, and oh, here, I found a magazine that will tell you which bathing suit is right for your body type."

"Gee, that's helpful." Kevin smirked at the magazine Billy tossed in his direction, finally looking up from the computer screen. His eyes were red from strain or lack of sleep, probably both, and Billy imagined his own eyes looked the same.

"I tell you," Kevin said as he rolled his head back and forth across his shoulders, "whoever she got to help her is damn good. I mean, it's like they thought of everything. A new phone, untraceable. A false lead. No money trail. She does not want to be found."

"Gee, that's helpful."

Nothing Kevin had said was untrue or anything he hadn't already thought himself, but his comment still stung.

"Sorry," Kevin said quietly and then sat up alertly. "But that doesn't mean we're not going to find her. Because we are. There's a clue somewhere. People always overlook something, so…just keep going."

Billy nodded and shoved the pile of mail off the table and into the cardboard box at his feet. He was glad one of them could generate some positive energy in what was tantamount to finding a needle in a haystack. Except in the haystack scenario, they would know what they were they looking for. As it was, he and Kevin were fumbling their way through her phone records, her emails, and all of her papers just trying to find something out of the ordinary, something to go on.

Using his foot, Billy pushed aside the box of mail and then swept the last box of her papers closer to him. On top was the folder containing all of her receipts from the week she left, the receipts she hadn't had time to organize in her meticulous system. As he dumped the contents on the table in front of him, one sailed to the floor, and he reached down to pick it up. Coincidentally, it was from Crimson Lights, but the thing that caught his attention was the messy scribbling in Victoria's handwriting on the back.

"What is it? You find something?" Kevin asked when a 'huh' escaped Billy's lips.

"Not sure. What do you make of this?"

"Dr. Lange. Thursday. 3:00," he read from the paper Billy held up to him. "A doctor's appointment?"

"Look at the date on the receipt. May 14. That's the week she left. So the appointment had to be the day before she left, right?"

"I mean, I guess, unless the appointment was in D.C. Who's Dr. Lange?"

"I've never heard that name before," Billy said, his voice soft and shaky. He leaned back in the hard, wooden chair as new questions and new fears bombarded him. He remembered she hadn't felt well in the weeks leading up to her trip. She didn't eat, didn't sleep. They had both chalked it up to stress and grief, but while he had worried about her, he never considered it was anything more than that. But now, it was all he could consider.

For the next half hour, the two men, finally with their 'needle' to look for, silently pored over all the information they had already sifted through once. But there was nothing to find. No phone calls to any doctors, no medical bills, no corresponding explanation of benefits from the insurance company. There was only one wrinkled receipt with a hastily scrawled note on the back.

"You have to break into her medical files," Billy stated when their second search turned up empty-handed.

Kevin's eyes grew big, and he pushed his chair away from the table, physically distancing himself from the idea. "No. No way. Absolutely not. I'm not going to do that."

"This is my wife we're talking about, Kevin." Billy then leaned across the table to say the words he hadn't dared utter until now. "She could be sick, man."

"Look, I know, okay? I know what you're thinking, but I can't do it. It's bad enough you've got me hacking into her bank accounts and phone records, but I'm not violating HIPAA to help you."

"You're not a doctor. You can't violate HIPAA." Billy's voice was too loud, and he forced himself to lower it even though there was only one other person in the place, an older man who had been reading the newspaper and nursing the same small cup of coffee for an hour. "What if it was Chloe, huh? You would do it then."

"We don't even know if she went to the appointment, Billy. Or what kind of doctor this Dr. Lange is. He could be a vet, for all we know."

They had reached a stalemate in their conversation, neither willing to concede, and when the coffeehouse door opened, Kevin was relieved to have a customer to serve and a reason to leave Billy stewing alone at the table. When he got behind the counter, he saw the customer was Adam, not a surprise since most of his Sunday morning patrons were loners who had no one to sleep in with.

"He okay?" Adam nodded towards the table covered in paper and the man with his head buried in his hands.

"He's just worried about Victoria," Kevin sighed, not really caring who he was sharing information with. Truth was, he just needed to vent for a minute. "We're trying to find her, and let's just say it's not going very well."

"I didn't realize she was lost. Isn't she in New Mexico? I mean that's the word on the street."

Kevin shook his head and handed Adam the large coffee to-go he had ordered before reluctantly rejoining Billy at their table. Adam hesitated at the counter a moment, letting the news about his half sister sink in, unable to free himself from feeling at least partially responsible. And as he headed for the doors to the patio, he stopped in front of Billy.

"I hope you find her. She seemed pretty upset the last time I saw her."

Billy flashed an accusing look across the table and then stood to block his brother-in-law's path. "Of course she was upset, you jackass. She had just lost another kid."

He was looking for a fight, Adam sensed that, and as much as he hated that Billy had brought up that night at the hospital, he put his hands up in surrender, refusing to take the bait. "I wasn't-I wasn't talking about that. The last time I saw her was here, actually. The day she left to see Reed."

"Did you say something to her? Did you upset her?"

"She was already upset, Billy. Believe it or not, this one's not on me."

"She say anything else?" Kevin jumped into the conversation, trying to diffuse the situation and also trying to find a lead that didn't involve hacking into medical records. "Was anybody with her? Anything?"

Adam started to say no, but then wrinkled his forehead as if he were replaying the scene in his head. "Phyllis was here," he said. "She almost ran me over trying to get away."

It was the name that caught their attention, that caused Billy and Kevin to look at each other, an entire conversation passing silently between them. They both knew Phyllis' computer skills, but neither was willing to take Adam at his word. Kevin went to work frantically on his laptop, his eyes searching for something that had seemed ordinary earlier, but now could be significant.

"Phyllis called her twice the day she left," he said, a touch of excitement in his voice, but Billy was already tripping over boxes, already halfway out the door. Kevin didn't bother asking where he was going. There was only one possibility.

* * *

The short distance between Crimson Lights and Phyllis' apartment provided Billy just enough time to recall every concerned visit, every comforting word the redhead had bestowed on him since Victoria's disappearance, and in retrospect, he saw it all, the nervousness, the avoidance of eye contact, all the usual signs she was hiding something. By the time he reached apartment 1054, he was fuming, and using his entire forearm, he pounded on the door repeatedly, so hard it rattled in its frame.

When it finally swung open, Phyllis appeared in the doorway, laughing but slightly annoyed, her sweatpants and messy hair suggesting she either hadn't been up long or he had woken her with his pounding.

"I thought you weren't bringing Summer back 'til later," she started, but then stopped as soon as she realized it wasn't Nicholas at her door.

"Where is she?"

His voice was low and deadly calm, belying the fury below the surface. She knew that tone well. She had been on the receiving end of it before, over the magazine, over Lucy. But this time, this early on a Sunday morning, that hurt look in his eyes, Phyllis knew there was only one explanation for it. The moment she had dreaded and tried to avoid since the day she agreed to help Victoria was here, and she was wholly unprepared.

"Where's who?" she answered coolly. She knew she had been caught, but it was her instinct to lie, to carry out the charade, never conceding until the last possible moment.

"My wife," he said through gritted teeth, unfazed by her act. "She disappeared. You helped her. Now I want to know where she is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you lie to me." He took a threatening step forward, invading her personal space, forcing her to look him in the eyes, demanding she tell the truth. "You talked to her the day she left. I have phone records. Adam saw you with her at Crimson Lights. Now tell me where she is."

"I don't know. I don't know where she is." Phyllis didn't budge from her position, and she didn't avoid his eyes, didn't have to because what she told him was the truth. She had known right away that the New Mexico story was false, but other than that, she had no knowledge of Victoria's whereabouts.

"But you helped her. Didn't you?"

The redhead crossed her arms defiantly and challenged his glare with one of her own, one just as fierce and threatening, one that told him she would tell him nothing.

"Dammit, Phyllis!" He slammed the palm of his hand against the face of the still open door, and they both flinched at the sound. "She could be sick. There was a doctor. There was the name of doctor. My wife could be sick, and I have the right to know where she is."

Phyllis couldn't follow what he was saying, his words made little sense, but beneath his now shaky bravado, beneath the anger flashing in his eyes, she saw what was really fueling his hostility. It was fear. He was genuinely afraid that the woman he loved was ill, and that affected her, affected her so much she retreated into her apartment only to have him follow her.

"She's not sick, Billy. She's not sick. She's…."

She almost said the word she had promised Victoria she'd keep to herself, but she couldn't. All these weeks, Phyllis had just assumed that no news meant good news, meant the baby was fine and any day now she'd show up with her swollen belly. But maybe that wasn't the case, and maybe she'd only be making things worse by telling him. There was no way to know, and knowing Tony as well as she did, there was no way to find her anyway.

"She's not sick," she said again, calmly, urging him to believe her. "You have my word, Billy. She just needed some time. She'll be back."

She didn't appear nervous, didn't appear to be lying, and God knows, he wanted to believe her. But it was that condescending tone and those placating words that sent him on the offensive again. "You're getting off on this, aren't you? Watching me freak out. Just waiting for me to get on my knees and beg you for your help. Well, I don't need you, Phyllis. I'll find Victoria myself."

"Good. You do that."

He backed away from her and then turned for the door, delivering his parting shot as he exited her apartment. "By the way, Phyllis, you're fired."

"Oh yeah?" She followed him into the hallway, not caring how loud her voice was or how many of her neighbors heard. "Well, who's going to run the magazine if you're off looking for Victoria?"

He pressed the button for the elevator three times and spun around to face her again. "You are. When I get back, then you're fired."

"What the hell's going on here?" Neither of them had heard the elevator ding over their voices, and neither of them had seen Nicholas exit the elevator, his looming presence startling them.

"Ask her," Billy sneered as he pushed past his brother-in-law and slid his body between the closing elevator doors, leaving Nicholas and Phyllis alone in her hallway with a huge question hanging between them.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"Not really," Phyllis murmured as she chewed nervously on her fingernails and hoped Victoria hadn't forgotten the promise she had made to her.

* * *

Billy let the front door slam behind him and threw his keys violently against the table by the stairs. They struck the wood so hard they bounced off and landed on the floor at his feet. He didn't pick them up, and for the first time in weeks, he didn't uphold his own tradition of standing silently in the entry, waiting to see if she had come home. He was done with that. He was done with waiting, and he was done with hoping.

He crossed the living room like a bull ready to charge, his stride three times his normal gait. Only there was nothing to charge at, no taunting matador, no billowing red cape, nowhere to release the growing tension inside him. He had been too angry, was still too angry, to go back to Crimson Lights, his visit with Phyllis pushing him over the edge. He was angry at her for lying to his face, at Victor and Chelsea for their scheming, at Adam for growing a conscience at the worst possible time. And though he didn't want to admit it, deep inside he was angry at Victoria.

He reached the end of the room and instead of turning around, he marched to the fireplace, the portrait hanging above it drawing him there like a beacon. As he stared at it, three memories assaulted him simultaneously: the Halloween they first wore those ridiculous costumes, the day he found the painting in the closet, made love to her and then left, and finally, the day he hung it there, the day after he found his way back to her.

Or rather she found him. She had come looking for him. She had come looking for him when no one else would, that's what his mom had said just yesterday. She'd risked her life and she'd put her own hurt and pain aside. For him. Because she loved him. Because she knew something was wrong.

Suddenly, he felt ashamed for being angry at her, and hot tears stung his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and he leaned his forearms against the hard surface of the mantle, his head dropping between them. There, at his makeshift altar, he prayed that Phyllis was telling the truth, that Victoria was okay. And he prayed for a sign, a clue, something, anything that would help him find her.

He remained in that position until his breathing and his emotions were once again under control. When he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head, there in front of him was the answer to his prayer, in a silver frame, in the form of a little blonde-headed boy wearing a huge grin.

_Reed._

Reed talked to her everyday. He was the only person who had talked to her in weeks. Billy grabbed the photograph off the mantle and turned the rocking chair so he could sit. Over the summer he had called and emailed Reed regularly, but the one subject he never brought up was Victoria. Reed mentioned her all the time, but Billy always kept up the charade that nothing was wrong, that he knew exactly where she was. He couldn't change that now. He couldn't call him out of the blue and start asking questions that would alarm him, that would make him worry about his mother.

But he had to do something. He couldn't take anymore of his current hell.

Before he could change his mind, Billy placed the call and waited anxiously for Mac to put Reed on the line. He worried he wouldn't be able to go through with it, but as soon as he heard Reed scream 'Billy' into the other end, all of his worry dissipated. Reed's voice always had the same effect on him that Delia's did, making him feel instantly lighter and full of joy, and for the next few minutes, he listened attentively as the little boy he loved as his own, who he had once promised to raise as his own, chattered away about his first week of school and soccer practice and the new things his little brother was doing. Only when the conversation reached a lull did Billy remember why he had called in the first place.

"Wow, buddy, I bet your mom loved hearing all about that," he said, testing the waters, hating that he was using Reed like this.

"Yeah, she did."

"You talk to her yet today?"

"No, she always calls at bedtime."

"So she can sing you the 'goodnight song,' right?"

"No, silly," the little boy laughed from across the country, "she calls at her bedtime, not mine. It's before dinnertime here."

"That's right. I forgot," Billy lied. In his head, he hurriedly calculated the hours between Reed's dinnertime and the time Victoria usually went to bed. She was definitely across the Atlantic, and while it wasn't much to go on, it was something.

"She sings the 'goodnight song' anyway," Reed offered on his own. "And then we say 'a river…' 'a river….'"

Billy smiled as he imagined the little boy's scrunched face trying to recall some ritualistic phrase he shared with his mother.

"Arrivederci!" Reed finally spit out as if he had just made a giant discovery.

At the sound of the word and Reed's near perfect pronunciation, Billy stood up, a light bulb going off in his head. "She taught you how to say 'goodbye' in Italian? That's cool." His heart was pounding, and he was trying not to push too far.

"She says it doesn't really mean 'goodbye,' cause goodbye means forever. She says it means 'until we see each other again.' "

"She would know," Billy responded. "She used to live in Italy. Did you know that?"

"Yeah, she told me. She told me she'd take me there sometime. You can come too. And Delia." For a minute the phone went silent, and Billy checked to see if the call had been dropped. But the little boy's voice returned, telling him that he had to go because they were going to the park.

"Okay, buddy. I'll talk to you later," Billy said, disappointed to say goodbye, but so glad he had called.

"Arrivederci, Billy."

Reed hung up before he could return the sentiment, but Billy whispered the word into the empty room that wasn't quite as dull as it had been minutes earlier. It wasn't a sure thing, but if his hunch was right, if his hunch had been right all along….

Billy raced to the stairs, phone in hand. He had calls to make and a bag to pack. There was no time to wait. He was done with waiting.

* * *

Less than twenty minutes after his conversation with Reed, Billy raced back downstairs, leather carry-on bag in hand, to the sound of persistent, but muffled knocking at the front door. He dropped the bag he had stuffed with enough clothes for the next few days by the door just as he opened it to find Kevin, his arms struggling to keep the two heavy cardboard boxes Billy had left at Crimson Lights from dropping on the welcome mat.

Billy chuckled at his predicament and motioned for Kevin to come in as he took the boxes himself and sat them on the wooden bench in the entryway. "I'm glad you're here. I sorta need another favor."

Kevin eyed him suspiciously as he stepped inside the house and closed the door behind him. He hadn't been sure what to expect after Billy's sudden departure from the coffeehouse. He had assumed there'd be some combination of angry pacing, swearing, and threats of violence, but the Zen creature he found instead was far more concerning.

"I already took care of it," Kevin stammered, pulling a sheet of folded paper from his back pocket. "There are about fifteen Dr. Lange's within thirty miles of here, ranging from general practitioners to podiatrists. There's even a vet and a perinatologist, whatever that is."

As Kevin talked, faster than he meant, Billy began putting the boxes of Victoria's personal papers away in the coat closet.

"Now I figure tomorrow morning when the offices are open, we'll just call all of them. You're her husband. They might give us some information. And if those are all dead ends, then we'll expand the search to sixty miles. And if that doesn't work…then…then I'll do it. I'll break into her medical records."

Before he shut the boxes completely out of sight, Billy grabbed one of his jackets from the closet and walked past Kevin to lay it on top of his bag. "Forget it. You don't have to do it."

"But back at the coffee house you were…you said…" Kevin stopped mid-thought as he finally noticed the leather bag at the door. "Are you going somewhere? Did Phyllis tell you where she is?"

"Phyllis was useless. But I'm going to find her anyway."

"Wait? You know where she is?"

"It's mostly a gut thing, but yeah, I think I was right all along." Billy smiled and slapped Kevin on the shoulders as he headed for the dining room in search of a couple of last minute additions to his bag.

"Italy?" Kevin guessed, right on Billy's heels. "You're going to Italy? Today? You're not going to wait until tomorrow when we can call every Dr. Lange in the area, when her phone will get here from New Mexico? When we have a little something more to go on than your gut?"

Billy shook his head 'no' to every irate question Kevin posed to him as he fished two pieces of paper from a specific dining room drawer.

"What are you going to do? Knock on every door in the country?"

"If I have to," Billy answered, "but Jack gave me a few places to start."

Billy walked back through the living room and bent to slide the papers he had collected into the side pocket of his carry-on. When he stood up again, he saw the confused, genuinely concerned look on Kevin's face as well as the tired reminders that he had stayed up all night to help him."

"Look," Billy began, "I can be there by tomorrow, Kevin. And If I'm really lucky, I can be with her. I can be with her and find out the things that calling every doctor in a thirty-mile radius can't. Finding out why she left? That's not good enough. I need to find _her_, and I need to start listening to my instincts."

He had been as honest and raw as he could, but he still expected Kevin to throw more questions, more logical options at him. When he didn't, Billy was surprised. And grateful.

"I get it." Kevin said sadly. "I've been there."

Kevin hadn't said it, but the name 'Jana' echoed throughout the living room anyway, and the two men stood there quietly acknowledging a shared situation. Billy wanted to say something, 'I'm sorry' or 'thank you,' but Kevin shook his head, and they both understood.

"So, what about that favor you needed?"

The unlikely friends both laughed, and Billy contorted his face, afraid to reveal his request. "It's two actually. It's two favors. I need somebody to sign for her phone in the morning. At 10:00."

"Done."

"And I kinda was wondering if you could take Keely? I know it's a lot, but—"

"Done."

Billy picked up his jacket and slid the leather strap of his bag across his body. "I gotta get going," he apologized. "I want to stop and say bye to Dee Dee before my flight. But, uh, there's an extra house key under the mat, and all of Keely's things are in the kitchen and the garage, and—"

"Billy," Kevin interrupted. "I'll take care of everything. Just go. Go find your wife."

Billy smiled and opened the door. Before he walked out, he gave one last look around the house they had made their home. He had no idea what to expect, what he would discover on his journey, but he silently promised he wouldn't return here without her.

"Arrivederci, Kevin," he said and walked out the door, down the same steps and walkway Victoria had walked down two years ago to the day. Then, she had been walking towards him; this time, he was walking towards her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 is a bit of a break from the angst, and it's all Billy and Victoria. This chapter was fun to write, and so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Thanks!

* * *

_September 9, 2012_

Victoria lay awake in the bed that, even after three months, still felt strange to her. She had tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, trying every position, every configuration of pillows and covers at least three times, but it was no use. She was simply too restless to sleep tonight. And judging by the continuous blows to her midsection, so was someone else.

She shoved another pillow behind her head and then let her hands and eyes drift past her chest to the perfectly round part of her body she still couldn't quite comprehend. The baby had been kicking for weeks now, but each new movement was just as exhilarating as the very first, and there was no amount of sleep she would trade for these midnight baby dances, this part of pregnancy she had barely gotten to experience with Reed before the accident at Clear Springs.

These sleepless nights were their most precious time together, when Victoria would talk as her little night owl turned somersaults in her womb, telling story after story about Genoa City and all the people there waiting for them-the grandmothers, the uncles and aunts, all the cousins, a big sister, and not so far away, a big brother. But mostly, she told the baby about Billy. About an impromptu trip to Jamaica, a trailer with a faulty doorknob, a tattoo artist named Snake, an airport pub and a smile that could charm even an ice princess. It was 'daddy stories' that always calmed the baby down for the night, and telling the stories helped her feel close to him and eased a tiny bit of the guilt she felt for keeping such a huge secret from him.

"You trying to get my attention? Huh?" she cooed when the baby began a new round of even stronger kicks. It was definitely going to take a 'daddy story' to calm them both tonight, she thought.

Rolling back onto her side, Victoria peered at the digital clock by the bed. She was surprised to find that it wasn't quite midnight yet. There were still ten minutes left of the day, ten minutes left of their anniversary, and even more time back home. She wondered what Billy was doing right now, if he had thought about her today, if he had thought about her at all.

She sighed loudly and moved her hands over her belly in reassuring circles, fighting the overwhelming urge to just pick up the phone and call him. But when her fingers grazed the buttons of the dress shirt she had worn to bed, the one she had impulsively shoved in her suitcase the morning she left Genoa City, the one she wore on nights like this when the longing for him was unbearable, she remembered that today wasn't just their anniversary. No, today, this day that was so special to them, also marked the first full day of her third trimester, a milestone she had never reached before. And as her fingers continued to fondle the row of buttons, she smiled, remembering another strange bed, another set of buttons, and the most perfect day ever.

* * *

Billy took his pick of the empty bar stools and claimed the one next to him for his bag. He signaled his order to the bartender with a nod, and as he waited for the green liquid, he drummed his fingers restlessly against the wooden surface in front of him.

He had meant to avoid this place, this place where, no matter the date on the calendar, it was perpetually March 17. But temptation and a two-hour layover had gotten the best of him, and as he looked around at the decorations that never seemed to change, he realized this was his third visit to Finn McGee's in less than a year. The last time had been Christmas Eve when he and Victoria had toasted to a lifetime of happiness as they waited for their flight to Jamaica. They had felt so invincible then, so certain they would never again be separated.

"_Okay, so if I ever can't find you again... Now I know where to look."_

Her words, the words she had said that night, echoed through his thoughts, and he suddenly wished he could be as certain about where to find her. But the rush of adrenaline he had felt after talking to Reed was wearing off, and his confidence was waning. What if this was just another false lead? What if he was traveling halfway around the world only to find out he didn't know his wife as well as he thought?

The bartender finally slid his beer in front of him, and Billy took a long, satisfying drink of the beverage forever linked to Victoria. Above the bar, the countdown banner boasted that there were only 189 days until the rest of the world caught up to Finn McGee's, and despite his current mood, a smile crossed his face as he remembered last St. Patrick's Day, the last time he had had green beer.

* * *

_March 17 2012_

"Why are you awake?" Billy groggily questioned the gorgeous brunette sitting on the bed next to him, the same one who had just forcefully shaken him from a deep, peaceful sleep. Though his eyes were barely open, he could see that the room was still mostly dark, and out of curiosity he reached for his phone on the nightstand. "It's not even 6:30. On a Saturday."

"Yes, I know," Victoria began, her voice too chipper for so early, "but that's here. At home, it's almost 8:30."

"But we're not home. We're in California. And it's Saturday. Sat-tur-day," he emphasized and let his eyes drift shut again.

Unwilling to give up, Victoria placed her hands back on his bare chest and resumed the shaking that had worked the first time. "But my body doesn't know that. My body thinks it's time to get up, so get up," she demanded playfully.

Billy's eyes flew open, all the way open this time, and he caught one of her offending arms mid-assault. "You know, I am usually the biggest, and I mean the _biggest_, fan of your body…"

"Oh yeah?" Her voice was purposefully seductive, and she leaned her face to within inches of his as her free hand teased its way towards the white sheet draped across his lower half. "I noticed."

"Oh, Mrs. Abbott, you do not play fair."

Taking advantage of her proximity, Billy lifted his head from the pillow and captured her lower lip between his. She returned the kiss gently, briefly, but he wanted more. He wanted to deepen it, to pull her to him, to make this early morning wake-up call worthwhile, but before he could make his move, she pulled out of the kiss and slipped out of the hold he had on her arm.

"I know," she chirped and pushed herself from the bed completely. "That's what you like about me. Now get up and let's go do something."

He let out a long, guttural groan at the loss of contact with her, and when she laughed in response to his frustration, Billy took the abandoned pillow from her side of the bed and threw it in her direction. He missed by a mile, partially because he was still half asleep, but mostly because she was already on the other side of the room, flipping on light switches and drawing blinds, determined to keep him awake.

Billy squinted until his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, and when he opened them fully he saw the Pacific Ocean sprawled out before him. It took him a minute and a couple of yawns to remember where he was, to remember that he had surprised Victoria last night by moving them to a beachfront hotel in Santa Monica for the weekend. But while he had hoped they would spend a relaxing two days together far away from meetings and the drama back home, it seemed his wife had other plans.

With the room now lit, he saw that she was already dressed for the day, wearing a long green sundress tied at her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and only a slight trace of make-up covered the beautiful face that still wore a hint of laughter. Exactly how long had she been up, he wondered.

"What is so important we have to get up at 6:30 on a Saturday?" he asked as he finally sat up. "Did I mention it was Saturday?"

"Nothing," she shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. But as the smile slowly faded from her face, he wished he could rewind the last few minutes and take back his questions. "I just wanted to spend time with my husband."

He hadn't meant anything by it, hadn't meant to disappoint her in any way. He never wanted to disappoint her again, in fact. But it was sometimes still hard for him to believe she was here with him, that she wanted to be with him and spend time with him, even at 6:30 on a Saturday morning. He was touched by her simple want, and smiling, he held his hand out to her, beckoning her to him again. She accepted his invitation, and as soon as she sat back on the bed, their hands found each other and intertwined.

"It's just that-I'm only here for a couple more days," she softly explained, "and with everything going on at home…You know, this is probably the last chance we'll have to be alone before the baby comes. And I want to spend every second with you, having fun. But if you'd really rather sleep-"

Rising to a sitting position, he grabbed her face with both hands and stopped her explanation with a kiss, the deeper one he had wanted earlier. When they finally pulled apart, breathless, he rested his forehead on hers and slid his hands down her arms until they joined with her hands.

"You know I can never say no to you, right?" he said and made a move to get out of bed. "Give me a few minutes, okay? Then we are gonna have the funnest day ever."

Victoria rewarded him with a full grin, but when he threw the sheet off his body and headed towards the bathroom, she began to wish he'd fought a little harder to stay in bed.

* * *

They spent the morning and most of the afternoon exploring Santa Monica. They ate. They shopped. They people watched. They rode a Ferris wheel over the ocean and found Mecca in the form of a huge arcade on the pier. She helped him cross items off Delia's extensive list, and he helped her pick out a skateboard for Reed. And before they headed back to the hotel, they finished their excursion the same way it began, with a walk on the beach.

"That's seven," Billy said as he dumped all the loot they had collected throughout the day onto one of the oversized chairs in the living room of their suite. Finally free of his load, he collapsed next to Victoria on the sofa.

"Seven what?" she asked, her hand over her mouth.

"Yawns. Since we entered the lobby." He nudged her knee with his and flashed a cocky grin. "C'mon, admit it. You're sleepy, aren't you?"

After dragging him out of bed this morning, she really wanted to deny his accusation, but her body betrayed her with another yawn. She glanced into the bedroom and the bed that had been made while they were gone and then turned to him apologetically. "That bed is calling my name," she admitted.

"Yeah?" Billy chuckled and brought her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "Well, you get that bed then. I need to check in with my mom and Dee Dee anyway."

She offered him a smile of thanks for not saying 'I told you so' and reluctantly forced herself up, but as she did her eyes caught the end of her dress, which was several shades darker than the rest of it. It was wet from their last walk on the beach when Billy had playfully shoved her in the surf. The water had been freezing on her legs, and he had laughed when she shrieked in response to the icy temperature.

"Well, I guess I have to do something about this before I can 'get that bed,'" she huffed and pointed at her dress. He feigned innocence, but a smile tugged at his lips as she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him to make his phone calls.

Victoria made her way to the luxurious bathroom, which, like the bedroom, showed signs that housekeeping had been there while they were out. Every shiny surface sparkled, fresh towels hung outside the shower big enough for two, and someone had even picked up the dress shirt and pants Billy had discarded last night and hung them neatly alongside the plush bathrobe she had come in search of. Her hand reached for the robe she planned to exchange her dress for, but her eyes were drawn to his shirt, the one he had worn to dinner last night. The color was one of those impossible shades of blue that reminded her of the water in Jamaica.

Unable to resist, she reached out to touch the sleeve and brought it to her nose, closing her eyes as she breathed in that clean, masculine scent that belonged only to him. She had longed for that scent all those months they were apart last year, and she now smiled at the knowledge that he was here, just in the other room. Suddenly, the comfy robe had lost its appeal, and in one swift movement, she reached down, grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head, taking a page from Billy's book as she let it fall to the floor and left it there. She pulled the blue shirt from its hook and slipped one arm and then the other into sleeves that ended past her fingertips and then carefully buttoned all but the top two buttons.

With her wet dress taken care of, Victoria was now ready for her nap. Shaking her hair loose from its confines, she reentered the bedroom only to find a surprise waiting for her. He had been there and left evidence behind. His scent, the same one she was enshrouded in, still lingered in the air, and the bed had been turned down to reveal crisp white sheets. The sliding door leading to the balcony shared by the bedroom and the living room was half open, too, and craning her neck, she saw Billy was out there, leaning over the railing, cell phone to his ear.

Smiling at his gesture, she crawled to the center of the unmade king-sized bed and sank into its softness. The sheets were cool against her skin as was the breeze from the open door, but the late afternoon sunlight that poured across the bed was warm, and she stretched in it like a cat before settling on her side, one arm tucked under her neck, the other draped across the curve of her hip. From this position, she could see the ocean from every pane of glass that made up the room's two walls of windows, her favorite feature of the entire suite. She also had a partial view of Billy, the animation on his face and the playfulness of his voice telling her he was talking to his daughter. She took another deep whiff of his shirt and sighed happily as she realized that now only two of her senses were Billy-less.

As the sound of Billy's muffled voice blended with the roaring of the ocean as it came ashore again and again, Victoria's eyes drifted shut and then back open. She really was tired, that good tired that came from a long day spent in the sunshine, laughing and having fun with someone you love, but at the same time she didn't want to go sleep, didn't want to miss a moment with him before she had to return to Genoa City.

Despite her efforts to keep them open, her eyes drifted shut again and stayed closed longer than last time. When she finally forced them back open, Billy was no longer standing at the railing. He was closer to her now, seated on the edge of one of the two chaises that faced the ocean, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring absently at his bare feet. He was still on the phone, and based on his more serious tone, she could tell he was talking to his mom.

"Yeah, I'm glad she's here too," Victoria heard him say, and then after a few seconds of silence he added, "After all the crap I put her through? I don't even understand why she still speaks to me, Mom."

Victoria felt bad that she was listening to his private conversation, but her heart broke a little at the tone of his voice. He obviously still carried the guilt of last year, for the things he was responsible for as well as for those things of other people's doings. She had never been the most forgiving of souls, but she had forgiven him. For Lucy and for leaving her. The baby thing, the thing with Chelsea-as much as it hurt her, it wasn't his fault.

She heard him say goodbye to Jill and watched as he shuffled his phone back and forth between his hands. Then, as if suddenly remembering she was there, he shifted his gaze inside and locked eyes with her. His face wore a trace of embarrassment as he realized she had probably heard his conversation, but she only smiled in response and opened the palm of the hand draped across her hip in a gesture mirroring the one he had made to her hours ago. Without breaking eye contact, Billy slowly rose from the chaise, leaving his phone there in his place and walked towards her.

"Hi," he said softly and sat on the edge of the bed at the place where her knees were bent.

"Hi," she returned just as softly.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I got distracted. By the view."

He laughed quietly and broke their locked gaze as his eyes traveled down the length of her body, lingering where his shirt ended and bare legs began. He had expected to find her swaddled in one of the hotel's complementary robes, but she was wearing his shirt instead. And it was sexy as hell.

"Well it's a great view," he said as he placed his hand on her ankle and began an excruciatingly slow journey up the muscular curve of her calf, past the dip at her bent knees and finally along her silky thigh, his fingertips slipping ever so slightly beneath the barrier of blue cotton.

Victoria relaxed into his touch, and as his hand began its equally slow trip back down her leg, her eyes were drawn back to the two walls of windows and the expanse of water and sky outside them. Billy watched her face intently, taking note of the hint of a smile on her lips and the far away look in her eyes. Something was clearly on her mind, and he wondered if she would share it with him or keep it to herself as she did so many things. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long to find out.

"When I lived in Italy…"

She stopped after those five words and ducked her head shyly before looking up at him. He halted the movement of his roaming hand and fixed his eyes on hers again, letting her know she had his attention, all of his attention. She rarely talked about her life in Florence, so he knew it was special that she wanted to share this piece of herself with him.

"When I lived in Italy," she started again, full of poise and purpose "and I was studying art…" She paused for a second time as her eyes left his and turned back to the ocean. He sensed it wasn't out of embarrassment, but that somehow the view was integral to the story.

"We were learning to paint landscapes, seascapes actually. And the instructor was this little, tiny old lady with a…a hunched back and a really thick Italian accent. She was probably a lot younger than she looked, but her hair was all gray and done up in this messy …well…a pile on top of her head. Anyway, she would always say, 'Before you paint, you must decide where the sky ends and the water begins. Then, draw a line and break them up.'"

Victoria had imitated her instructor's accent as she told the story, and they had both laughed as she did it. But when the room grew quiet again, she turned her eyes in his direction.

"You know, you look out there," she continued, her head gesturing towards the windows. "And it looks like there really is a line that separates the ocean from the sky. But there's not. It's just perception, a trick of the eye. Beyond the horizon, they go on forever. Together."

She wasn't talking about painting or the horizon or Italy. He knew that. She was talking about them. Billy slid his hand back up her leg in search of her hand, and their fingers linked automatically at the first touch.

"But I tried to break us anyway," he confessed.

"So did I, Billy. So did I." Her voice was compassionate but adamant. She was demanding he acknowledge that what happened to them was not all his fault. She had pushed him away. She had filed for divorce. And then there were the things neither of them had control over. "But it didn't work. There's nothing that can keep us apart."

He shook his head no, agreeing with her, accepting what she had said. They had been through more in the last couple of years than most people go through in a lifetime, but they had survived. And they were stronger than ever because now they knew the cost of being apart. They stayed that way, joined by hands and eyes, until the weight of the moment became too much for Billy and he playfully flipped the edge of his shirt, the one she was wearing, and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Shirt thief."

Victoria sucked in an indignant breath at his accusation and rolled from her side to her back, pulling her hand free from his. Then he saw her face change. All of the seriousness melted from her eyes, and something else took its place, something wicked, something seductive.

"You want your shirt back?"

She raised her eyebrows as she teased him with the question, and when he nodded in response, Victoria positioned her hands on the first of the buttoned buttons and slowly slid the tiny object from its opening. "Then why don't you…" Her hands slid to the next button and performed the same trick. "…come over here…" She released a third button. "…and get it…"

Billy's eyes grew large as he watched her undo the final two buttons and then let her hands fall to the bed as she patiently awaited his move. But he wasn't prepared to give in to her yet. She had teased him, and he wanted to return the favor.

Pushing himself forward, Billy placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and used his upper arm strength to support his weight as he moved to straddle her hips. He loomed above her on all fours, like a wild animal that had finally trapped its prey, and she had to bite her lip to keep from revealing how turned on she was by it. Bending his elbows, Billy lowered his face to hers, bringing his lips within millimeters of her lips, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of a kiss.

But he didn't kiss her. Not yet. Keeping his lips the same tantalizing distance from her body, he stealthily inched down the bed, using his nose and occasionally his mouth to ever so slightly part the blue shirt, creating a narrow trail of ivory skin down her torso. His breath was hot on her newly exposed skin, and he smelled like sunshine and the salty air they had spent all day in. The lack of contact was killing her, a fact he seemed to gain intense pleasure from, but when he reached the taut muscles of her stomach, she arched her back, forcing him to touch her. The stubble on his face tickled her, and she laughed and squirmed as he rewarded her with a quick, gentle kiss low on her abdomen.

It wasn't enough, though, so she made a counter attack, sliding her foot up the bed, just until her knee made contact with the strained denim above her hips. A strangled noise escaped from the back of his throat, and Billy sped up his retreat down her body. She instinctively grabbed the ends of the navy blue tee shirt he wore, and as he moved away from her, his shirt stayed behind, ultimately slipping over his head and down his arms, landing in her possession.

"The shirt thief strikes again," he teased and rose to his knees at the end of the bed, naked from the waist up.

She laughed at her victory and his defeat, but tossed the shirt off the bed. She didn't want the shirt. And she didn't want to sleep anymore. She wanted him, and she wanted him now.

Still in his kneeling position, Billy let his eyes travel down his wife's body. His gaze lingered at the place where the path of skin he had created met a triangle of pale pink lace, the only other article of clothing she wore. His face broke into a devilish grin, and he leaned over her, using only one of his muscular arms to support his weight. His other hand smoothed a trail up the back of her leg, and when it reached the fullness of her rear end, he pinched her.

"Oooow," she yelped, caught completely off guard. "What was that for?"

"You're not wearing green anymore," he answered in a sing-song voice.

"Well, neither are you."

"Oh I'm not wearing green? I'm not wearing green?" He practically leapt off the bed and as she rubbed the spot where he had inflicted pain on her, he quickly undid his jeans and let them fall to the floor, revealing the most ridiculously green pair of boxer shorts she had ever seen. They were covered in shamrocks and the words 'Kiss me, I'm Irish."

She forgot her pain as laughter claimed her and then soon infected him as well. When they were finally able to stop, their eyes sought each other again, amusement quickly giving way to desire as neither tried to hide their hunger for the other. He swallowed hard at the sight of her nearly naked body, the intensity of his gaze causing her to blush, and drawing her legs up behind her, Victoria rose to her knees and crept down the bed until she was in front of him. She brought her hands to the collar of the blue shirt and ever so slowly let it slide off her shoulders and down her arms. Once she was free of it and the ocean breeze caressed even more of her skin, she offered the article of clothing back to its owner, but Billy's eyes never broke from her as he grabbed the shirt from her hand and let it fall to the floor in a puddle of impossibly blue cotton. He continued to drink her in with his eyes, and then finally with his body, taking her face in his hands and kissing her hard on the mouth. And as they fell back onto the bed, Victoria delighted in the knowledge that now, finally,all of her senses were Billy-engaged.

Outside, the ocean continued its assault on the shore, while inside, Billy and Victoria found a rhythm as timeless and powerful as the ocean itself. Her hands teased every muscular plane of his body, while his mouth found every tender part of hers. And in the final moment, before all was lost to pleasure, Billy grasped her hand and whispered 'I love you' into her ear. He wasn't sure if she had heard him, but he was damn sure she knew.

* * *

As the last bit of daylight danced across the surface of the ocean and the room's golden glow morphed into shadowy blues, Billy propped himself up on his elbow and let the fingers of his free hand dance across his sleeping wife's back. Victoria lay on her stomach inches away from him, her arms tucked under her chest, her dark hair sprawled across the pillow. Beneath the sheet he had hastily pulled over them after their lovemaking, her feet remained tangled with his.

"Hey, sleepy," he whispered when she moaned and stretched lazily beneath his touch. She was so peaceful he hated to wake her, but he was beginning to understand how she had felt this morning, that need to just be with her.

"I'm not sleepy," she protested softly, opening one eye long enough to cast a mischievous glance his direction. "I'm…satisfied."

Her body shook with laughter before the words had even escaped her lips, before the blush she had intended with her remark had time to creep across Billy's face, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"Oh, baby," he eventually growled and leaned forward to place a kiss of thanks on her silky bare shoulder. Victoria all but purred as his dancing fingers collapsed against her back and his full palm swept across her skin. His warm hand moved lower down her back, taking the sheet with it on its journey. She knew where he was going, what he was looking for, and when he reached his destination, his hand stopped and caressed the small of her back.

"Oh, no." His voice was silly and playfully serious at the same time. "There's writing on your back, and it won't come off."

"What?" She lifted her head and, playing along with his little game, plastered a fake look of alarm across her face. "What does it say?"

He fought a smile as he raised himself higher on his elbow and pushed the sheet even farther down her back, far lower than was necessary for him to 'read' her tattoo. "Hmm. It says 'Billy Forever.'"

"Oh that?" A languid smile spread from ear to ear, and Victoria returned her head to the pillow. "I know all about that."

Billy flopped back against his own pillow, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from her skin. She was fully awake now, her huge blue eyes fixed on him. "This Billy-he must be pretty special for you to get his name tattooed on your back."

"Mm hmm. Very special."

She pulled the arm closest to him out from under her and reached for his face, using it to steady herself as she raised up to kiss him. It was a tender kiss, barely a kiss at all really, but it, along with the warm return of her naked chest against his, was more than enough to make him want a replay of earlier.

"Hey," he said when her lips had finished their brush with his. "What do you think about staying in tonight?"

Victoria rested her chin on his chest and furrowed her brow at him in confusion. "But you wanted to go out tonight. To that pub we saw earlier. The one with the live music and green beer."

"Yeah, that would be fun. It would. But there are things we can do here that we can't do if we go out." He smiled the famous Billy Abbott smile and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ahh," she said, catching his drift. "That's true."

"Uh huh," he smiled. "We can stay here. In bed. Order pizza and green beer. Maybe watch an old movie or two? What do you say? Huh? Huh?"

She sighed as if in deep contemplation. "Well, I am starving, but…"

At her hesitation, Billy flipped her onto her back, his hands tickling her ribs mercilessly.

"Okay, okay, okay. We'll stay in," she surrendered, and just before his mouth claimed hers again, she held his face tenderly above hers and confirmed what he suspected but was glad to hear her say. "Hey, Billy. I love you, too."

* * *

_September 9, 2012_

Billy drained the last of his beer in an effort to cover the growing smile on his face, because, although mostly vacant, Finn McGee's was far too public a place to recall such memories. Once his glass was empty and his smile under control, Billy turned his body and reached for his bag, spinning it around so he could get to the side pocket, and more importantly, to what was inside. He didn't know why he had packed the postcard or the pamphlet, but now as he stared at the creased image of the Washington Monument, at least one thing made a little more sense.

Flipping it over, he read the last line Victoria had scrawled across the bottom, almost like a desperate, last-minute plea to him: "P.S. I'm not trying to break us. Look beyond the horizon." The words hadn't made sense the first hundred times he read them, but now, after recalling that unforgettable afternoon in Santa Monica, he mentally kicked himself for not getting it right away.

"Dammit, Victoria," he said under his breath.

When the bartender offered to refill his drink, Billy silently declined and pulled enough cash from his wallet to cover the one beer and a generous tip. Over the intercom a faceless, droning voice announced that his flight would begin boarding soon, so Billy reached again for his bag to put away the postcard. As his hand slipped inside the pocket, he felt something in the bottom corner, a piece of paper as thick and glossy as the postcard, but narrower. As he pulled the mystery object out, a lump formed in his throat. It was them, four times over, smiling, laughing, kissing. She wore a green dress; he wore a navy shirt. It was a forgotten souvenir from the arcade, from Santa Monica, from the afternoon he had just recalled.

Billy quickly sniffed back his emotion and with the photographs still in his hand, grabbed his bag and headed for the exit. For months, he had thought she disappeared without a trace, but in the last twenty-four hours, he had come across sign after sign, all of them pointing him towards Italy. There were still questions left unanswered, but when Billy walked out of Finn McGee's for the third time in less than a year, stopping only to cast a last, hopeful glance at their booth, he did so with renewed confidence and new determination to find his wife.

* * *

It had been the perfect day, Victoria thought as she continued rubbing her belly. The baby was quiet now, the 'daddy story' having worked once again, but she kept up the motion as a comfort to herself. It hadn't been until two months later, however, that she found out just how perfect it had been. Odds-defying perfect. Stars-aligning perfect.

When Dr. Lange had calculated her due date back in May, he had said that, given all the variables to consider, it would be nearly impossible to determine the date of conception. But she had known. As soon as he had narrowed it down to a handful of days in mid-March, she had just known.

"I think it's time we go home," she whispered in the dark to her stomach.

It was still early back home. She could call him right now and get it over with, confess her secret, beg for forgiveness and a second chance. But her eyes were heavy and the task too great for so late. Instead, she pulled the covers over her as she finally settled in a comfortable position. Tomorrow, she thought as sleep began to claim her. Tomorrow she would make plans to go home. To return to Billy.


	10. Chapter 10

Just a quick warning: I've never been to Florence, so all of my descriptions are based on research, lots and lots of research. I don't think it's imperative that anyone reading should be greatly familiar with the city either, but it would help to know the basics, like what the Duomo is and looks like. The street view on Google maps is great, too, by the way.

Enjoy.

* * *

_September 11, 2012_

The day was clear and bright, and already warmer than Billy had expected for 9:00 a.m., but the steady breeze that ruffled the paper he gripped in his right hand made the increasing mugginess bearable. He stood outside the hotel he had chosen randomly late last night and casting his eyes down either end of the narrow, cobbled street, he took his first good look at Florence, or Firenze as the locals called it.

He wasn't a stranger to strange cities. He'd spent years dropping in and out of new places, places where nobody knew him, where he could be called Liam and shirk all the duty and responsibility that came with being an Abbott. But he wasn't that person anymore, and he didn't have the time or the desire to spend the day exploring this new city, taking in the sights and the culture, letting his senses and his charm guide him to the hidden fun spots. He was here for one purpose only, and thanks to a delay in New York and a missed connection in Paris, he was already half a day behind in his search.

As he shook off the aggravation of the last twenty-four hours, Billy turned his attention to the piece of paper in his hand, a street map of Florence that he had gotten from the young man at the front desk. Mario had been eager to help him plan a tour of the Duomo or one of the city's hundreds of museums, but Billy had politely declined and instead showed him the address he had gotten from Jack. It was a long shot, possibly even crazy to think that Victoria would be there in the same apartment where she had lived years ago, but his gut wouldn't let him move on to more rational plans until he had first eliminated the possibility.

Using both hands to steady the map in front of him, Billy studied the twisting, winding streets that radiated from the Arno River, his eyes ignoring the landmarks dotted throughout, focusing instead on the zigzag path Mario had highlighted for him. It would take no more than ten minutes to get from the hotel to 25 Piazza San Marco, Number 14, the young man had said. So with no more time to waste, Billy crossed to the shady side of the street and headed north, armed with a map, an address, and the Italian phrasebook he had picked up in Paris.

* * *

Victoria threw open the French doors that connected the living room of her apartment to the small balcony overlooking the Piazza di San Marco. It was already hot out, so she stayed in the open doorway where she could enjoy both the view of Florence and the comfort of air-conditioning.

Morning traffic was picking up, and in the plaza across the way, students from the nearby university and art schools loitered about as they waited for class. Turning her eyes down the busy street, she saw the great orange dome of the Duomo, the architectural symbol of Florence, peaking above the other rooftops, and a soft laugh escaped her lips as she mentally compared the cathedral's dome to the smaller one protruding from her midsection. At 27 weeks, it was visually obvious she was pregnant, but while she was farther along than she had been when Reed was born prematurely, her belly was actually smaller, just a compact roundness jutting straight out in front of her.

As a breeze sent the end of her red sundress fluttering against her ankles, Victoria leaned her back against the hardness of the doorframe and took in the exact same view she had fallen in love with years ago. It had been a risk taking this apartment again, considering the lengths she had gone to in order to keep from being found, but after mailing her phone to Sam, she had been pretty sure no one, including her father, would come looking for her. So when she had learned her old place was available for the summer, she had chosen familiarity over practicality, and over the last three months she had tried to immerse herself fully in her old life, volunteering at the same convent school, catching up with the few old friends still in the city, and even sitting in on an art class once in a while. And in the evenings, when it was cooler, she would take long walks among the ancient buildings that lined the same streets Michelangelo himself had walked down and marvel at how little Florence had changed.

But despite her best efforts to recreate her life in Italy, it wasn't the same. She wasn't the same. She was a mother now. And a wife. And everything she had left behind this time, everything she had risked by coming here, was far greater than anything Florence had to offer. And yet, as she placed both hands atop the spot where her second miracle remained safe and healthy, she wasn't quite able to call this trip a mistake. If only Billy would see it that way, she thought.

She hadn't called him yesterday like she had meant to, but not because she had changed her mind about going home. It was just that the thought of reuniting with him, all that that entailed, was beginning to seem harder than leaving him had been, so she had taken care of the easier things first. She had called Tony, and he arranged for the same pilot who had flown her across the Atlantic to return her to Genoa City the minute she was ready to go. Then, she had moved up her next doctor's appointment to tomorrow, when hopefully she and the baby would be given another clean bill of health and clearance to travel. All that was left was calling Billy, because as tempting as it was to just show up on their doorstep as Chelsea had done, she knew he deserved better, fair warning at least.

So, today was the day. Just as soon as it was morning in Genoa City, she was going to call him.

* * *

The walk Mario had claimed would take ten minutes took Billy nearly an hour. He had walked slowly so his eyes could scan each face that passed him, and he had stopped in front of every storefront window along the way, peering inside just in case she was there, shopping or having breakfast. Then there was the wrong turn and the backtracking, but finally he stood in the dim hallway outside the door that possibly separated him from Victoria, the same door Jack had stood outside when he lured her home last time. It was not lost on Billy that, in a way, he was carrying on an Abbott family tradition by being here.

His palms were sweaty, and he hesitated for a brief moment before curling his hand into a loose fist and delivering three strong knocks to the door. He let two full minutes pass with no response before repeating the action a little harder, a little longer, not quite willing to believe no one was home. Between knocks, he heard the door across the hall open behind him, and he turned to see an older woman peering curiously through the crack in the door.

"Scusi," Billy said, practicing the first of several phrases he had committed to memory during the flight from Paris. The woman remained where she was, and sensing her uneasiness, Billy flashed his signature grin and turned on the charm. "Do you speak English? Parli inglese?"

She shook her head no, but the charm had worked and she emerged from the dark interior of her apartment. With the language barrier established, Billy pulled the phrasebook from the back pocket of his jeans, flipped to one of the pages he had dog-eared, and in butchered Italian told her he was looking for someone and that he suspected she lived in the apartment behind him.

"Mia moglie, my wife," he explained and pointed to the tattooed ring on his left hand. The woman nodded her understanding, and Billy reached into another pocket for his phone so he could show the woman Victoria's picture. But his phone was back at the hotel, he suddenly remembered. The battery had died prior to his arrival in Florence, and he hadn't been able to charge it until this morning when Mario helped him out with a plug adaptor, something he'd forgotten he would need during his hasty packing.

With no photograph, he attempted to describe Victoria with the words he found in the phrasebook. He told the woman she had brown hair and blue eyes and that she was very beautiful. "She's…uh… su questo alto, about this tall," he said and held his hand up to indicate her height. "…and she's… poco, little. No. Skinny, magro," he corrected himself and made a small waist with his hands just as he remembered he had a picture of her in his wallet, the ones from Santa Monica. But as he pulled out the strip of photographs and handed it to the woman, she pushed his hand away without looking at them and shook her head sharply.

"No, no, no," she said, pointing to the door behind Billy. "No magro. No poco." She put her arms out in front of her, showing a roundness of the midsection and repeated a word Billy didn't recognize from his phrasebook, but assumed meant the opposite of skinny. It wasn't her. It wasn't Victoria, and he felt like an idiot for ever thinking that finding her would be as easy as knocking on one door. Things had never been that easy with the two of them.

"Thanks anyway," Billy told the woman and then quickly added, "Grazie."

The stranger nodded wordlessly and disappeared back inside her apartment as Billy returned the strip of photographs to his wallet. He was disappointed, but at least he had satisfied his gut. And now he could move on to phase two of his search, a meeting with a government official who hopefully could at least verify that she was in Florence.

* * *

It was 2:45. Five minutes since she last checked the time, still fifteen minutes until the hour she had assigned to making that dreaded phone call. This morning she had gone to spend what would hopefully be her last day volunteering at the convent school, and surprisingly, the hours had flown by. It was the last fifteen minutes that were going to be her undoing, Victoria thought as she paced the floor of her apartment.

"I should just do it already, shouldn't I?" she said to the empty room. "It's not like fifteen minutes will make it any easier."

Phone in hand, she marched to the ornate, tufted sofa and gathered the skirt of her dress in front of her before sinking into its softness. While her free hand caressed her belly through red cotton, Victoria carefully punched each digit of Billy's cell phone number into the untraceable phone Tony had given her before she left D.C., and as she waited for the call to go through, she calmed herself with the breathing techniques she had learned in prenatal yoga, silently praying that Billy hadn't given up on her.

At the sound of his recorded voice prompting her to leave a message, she nearly lost it. It had been months since she'd heard that sound, and it only reminded her how much she missed him, how much she wanted to go home, to him, to their life. Unwilling to leave what she had to say in a message, she ended the call before the beep and quickly dialed another number. It was just before 8:00 in Genoa City. He should still be there, getting ready for work or having breakfast. Unless, of course, he was at Jack's or in L.A. again for R_estless Style._ Or, worst-case scenario, he had taken her leaving hard and disappeared again, but he wouldn't do that, not after Delia's illness.

"Hello?" She heard after the third ring. It wasn't Billy's voice that answered their home phone, which stunned her into silence. It wasn't even male.

"Hello?" the voice said again, this time annoyed, and Victoria knew right away it was Chloe on the other end, probably there to pick Delia up or drop her off before school.

She debated whether she should say anything, ask for Billy or maybe even confide in the woman who had strangely enough become a good friend, but before she could decide how to handle this wrench in her plan, Chloe hung up the phone, thereby severing the only connection Victoria had made to Genoa City in three months.

Disappointed, she exhaled loudly and tossed the phone that wasn't hers onto the sofa. Maybe it was for the best. She could try again later, after she Skyped with Reed, when she'd had a little more time to come up with the right words to say to him. Not that there were any. And in the meantime, to make the hours pass faster, she could head back to the school and spend a little more time with the girls who had made her days in Florence brighter.

* * *

"You answered their phone?" Kevin asked as he walked through Billy and Victoria's front door just as Chloe placed the receiver back in its cradle.

"Uh, it was ringing. What was I supposed to do?"

He could tell by her tone and body language that she was pissed about something, possibly something as simple as the lack of caffeine this morning, or maybe it was something more serious. Either way, he wasn't looking for a fight, so he simply smiled and changed the subject.

"Found it," he said and held up Keely's leash he had retrieved from the garage. It was one of the reasons they'd stopped here this morning, the other reason being far more serious, and tantrum-inducing. "Delia find Pinkerton yet?"

Chloe nodded and then smiled in spite of her mood. "But then she decided she wanted to wear something from her closet at Daddy's. I told her she had ten minutes."

"Gee, I wonder where she gets that," Kevin laughed, but his remark didn't go over well with its intended target. Taking a vow of silence for the next ten minutes, he sat on the sofa and began examining each piece of the handful of mail he had gathered on his way in from the garage.

"Wait," he heard Chloe say and looked up. "I can't answer their phone, but you can go through their mail? And not to mention you've been carrying around Victoria's phone since yesterday."

There it was, he realized, the real reason behind her mood. She had been snippy since Saturday when he and Billy took up the search for Victoria again, and her snippiness had only increased with each hour he devoted to the mission.

"Look, Chloe," he began calmly, "I'm just trying to help find Victoria. I mean, she's Delia's stepmother. Don't you care what happens to her?"

"Hey, I care about Victoria. I gave her our wedding, didn't I? I just don't get why you're so involved, especially now that Billy thinks he knows where she is."

"Why am I involved?" he asked louder than he had intended, but no louder than Chloe had been. "I don't know. Maybe because I know what it's like to have my wife missing. Maybe because they're our friends. Or maybe because Victoria stayed by Delia's side and your side when she was sick, and all I did was help keep her husband away from her. And now _she's_ missing, and there might be something wrong with her. But all we have to go on is Billy's gut and the name of some doctor she may have gone to. And by the way, the only thing on her phone is a bunch of pictures she should probably delete before they get into the wrong hands and a recording from the day before she left that sounds like a washing machine on acid."

He had run out of breath, that was the only reason he ended his tirade. But the pause gave them both a moment to reel in their anger and remember the little girl upstairs. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, waiting for the other to end the stalemate.

"Let me hear it." Chloe's voice was softer now and apologetic. And when Kevin looked at her quizzically, she added, "The washing machine thing. I want to help, and you could use a female perspective."

Kevin slid over on the couch, making room for her to join him as he dug the orange phone from his pocket. He quickly found the mystery recording and handed the phone to Chloe so she could hit play. Soon, silence was replaced with that frustrating 'whoosh, whoosh, whoosh' sound that he hadn't been able to figure out, and Kevin watched as Chloe's brow furrowed in concentration and then rose in recognition.

"I know what this is," she said eagerly, her mood instantly changing. "It's a heartbeat. Like from an ultrasound. Like when I was pregnant with Dee Dee."

She handed the phone back to him victoriously, but in the midst of her celebratory dance, she failed to see the look of concern on her husband's face or the frantic way he pulled out his own phone and unraveled another mystery.

"What?" she asked, when she finally looked at him

"A perinatologist…," he read from his phone, "is a doctor who specializes in high-risk pregnancies." He paused for a minute as he mentally made the connections. "Dr. Lange is a perinatologist, and Victoria went to that appointment on the 17th because-."

"She's pregnant," Chloe finished and sat in solemn silence until footsteps sounded on the stairs. They both plastered on fake smiles as Delia approached them and modeled her new outfit, but when Chloe stood to leave, Kevin stayed where he was on the sofa.

"Can you take Delia to school by yourself?" he asked.

"Why? What are you going to do?"

He didn't answer her in the presence of the little girl clutching the pink pony she had forgotten about for two whole days, but in his eyes Chloe read the message loud and clear. He was going to call Billy. He was going to reveal Victoria's secret.

* * *

Billy was hot, tired, and teetering on the edge of cranky, the heat and jet lag beginning to officially take their toll on him. His meeting with the government official had been about as productive as any meeting he'd had with any government official ever—far too much waiting for far too little information. Even after he'd discreetly slid the envelope of money across the desk, the short, stodgy man had proclaimed he'd get back to him in a day or two.

Frustrated, Billy had worked his way back through the maze of streets to the hotel where his newly-charged phone waited for him. He had just missed a call from Kevin, and there were a ton of others he didn't feel like going through much less returning. It wasn't like he had anything to tell yet anyway. So, he'd headed back down to the lobby where he forced himself to eat something while Mario, who was fast becoming his best friend, helped him map his next destination. Jack had mentioned a convent school, and while Billy had a hard time imagining the tough businesswoman he knew so well as a teacher, it was worth a shot to check it out. Besides, the one thing he had learned on this trip so far was that there was actually a lot he didn't know about his wife.

Without a name or address, Mario had narrowed the possibilities down to a couple of schools near the Piazza di San Marco, and following the same path he had taken this morning, Billy headed to the school closest to the apartment he had struck out at earlier. That was where he stood now, inside an unassuming building with an arched wooden door, feeling like he was up to bat with two strikes and an entire city of nearly 400,000 people rooting against him. All he needed was one person who could give him a glimmer of hope.

Two women approached him in the entryway of the school. The older one, probably in her fifties, was clearly a nun, wearing the traditional black and white habit and a harsh expression that made Billy glad he had never gone to Catholic school. The younger woman was no more than eighteen, barely even a woman, and when she looked at him with her big, round eyes, she smiled shyly. He wondered if she was a student or a volunteer herself since she was dressed casually, and when she opened her mouth and in near perfect English asked how they could help him, he understood why she had come to greet the American.

"I'm looking for someone," he said, grateful he could explain his situation in English. He shifted his eyes between the two as he spoke, unsure as to which one he should be addressing. The nun was clearly in charge, but the girl had the language advantage. "She…um, she used to volunteer here a few years ago, and I think she may be in Florence again. Her name is Victoria. Have you seen her?"

This time he had her picture ready on his phone, and when he offered it to the women, the younger one took it carefully and held the image where they both could see it as she translated Billy's request to the nun. He watched as they studied the picture, and right away he saw a look of affection and recognition in the girl's eyes. This was definitely the right school, but he couldn't be sure if she recognized Victoria from recently or from years ago.

No, he couldn't be sure until the girl looked up at him briefly and then turned to her companion excitedly. Her Italian was native and fast, and there was only one word he recognized out of the string of syllables that flew from her mouth. His name. The girl said his name, and he knew. Victoria was in Florence. She had been in this school, was possibly here now.

"You know her, don't you?" he interrupted excitedly. "Is she here? Because I really, I really need to see her."

The girl stopped her rambling, and with a stern look and few words of her own, the nun prevented her from saying anymore. Billy noticed the tension that rose between them, and as the excitement faded from the girl's face, she handed his phone back and turned her eyes to the ground.

"We are sorry," she said mechanically. "She is not here. We cannot help you."

It was a lie, or at least not the full truth. They could help him, he knew it. They were just choosing not to. "But you know her. I saw it in your eyes," he pleaded to the girl. "Look, she's my wife, and I'm worried about her. Could you just tell me where she is? If she's okay?"

Again, the girl translated for him, her voice as pleading as his own, but the nun shook her head, and again the girl replied, "We are sorry. She is not here. We cannot help you."

"Please," Billy begged, this time to the nun, but she remained as stoic as the first moment he saw her. And with a simple, dismissive nod in his direction, she turned to go, shouting an order at the girl as she disappeared behind a door.

He stood there, distraught, deflated, and confused by what had just happened. He threw an angry punch into the air and cursed under his breath. He would stand outside this building all day if he had to. Everyday, until she showed up. He didn't need their help, he thought as he grabbed the handle of the door and let the warm air from outside in.

"Is this your first time in Florence?"

He had forgotten the girl was still there until he heard her voice. She was fidgety, and her eyes remained cast down. He wasn't sure why he did it, something about her demeanor maybe, but he managed to say 'yes' as his hand clung to the open door.

She looked up at him and then gave a cautious glance to the door the nun had disappeared behind. "You should visit the Cathedral, the Duomo," she said, but there was another message in her big eyes, one that made Billy's pulse quicken. "It's particularly lovely this time of day. Some of our students are there right now, sketching. Not alone, of course. One of our volunteers went with them, an American."

"Victoria's there?" he squeaked out.

"You should hurry," she said without confirming the information. "Before the light is gone."

* * *

Billy's feet barely touched the ground, and his legs felt as though they belonged to someone else as he sprinted in the direction the girl had pointed. He shouted 'scusi' as a warning to the pedestrians in his way, but he bumped into some of them nevertheless. A few yelled back angrily, probably cursing him, but he just kept racing toward the sun.

Something buzzed in his hand, his phone he didn't even realize he still carried. A quick glance told him it was Kevin, but he ignored the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. There was nothing anyone could tell him right now that was more important than what was waiting for him at the Duomo

Before he knew it, the street opened up, and the massive cathedral rose in front of him, beautiful and imposing. The plaza around it was a sea of tourists, and as he stopped to catch his breath, to let his heart stop pounding, his eyes searched the crowd for brown hair, blue eyes and the face that had haunted his dreams for three months.

The north side was bathed in shadows. So, following his gut and the hint from the girl at the school, he rounded the building to the part illuminated by the afternoon sun. The place was too big and too noisy. There were too many people, and he was scared she would be gone before he found her. He stood among a group of Japanese tourists busy snapping pictures of the marble walls. Their tour guide spoke to them in English, the language common to them both, and as he yelled over the crowd about how Florence was the 'cradle of the renaissance,' Billy wormed his way through the group.

The breeze had picked up since this morning, drying each bead of sweat on Billy's forehead almost as soon as it formed. A strong gust came through and blew something out of the hand of the man in front of him, and when the stranger bent down to pick it up, his movement opened up a new line of sight for Billy.

That's when he saw her.

Across the plaza, standing in the warm afternoon sun, surrounded by a group of girls struggling to control the pages of their sketchbooks. She was laughing, they all were, as the wind whipped her unruly hair into her face and inflated the skirt of her red dress, blowing it out in front of her like a bell mid-ring.

His heart stopped, literally stopped, and he clasped his hands on top of his head, fighting back the emotion as the reality hit him. He had found her. After three months, thousands of miles, and tons of unanswered questions, Victoria was standing no more than fifty feet away from him. And she was okay.

His eyes stayed glued to the red dress as he roughly pushed his way through the last swarm of people standing between them, and as he neared her, the sea parted, clearing his path to her. As if she sensed him, Victoria turned to face the wind, to face him. Out of hundreds of pairs of eyes, theirs locked immediately, and any doubts he had about her feelings for him were erased in that moment because all he saw was love.

Then, his eyes were drawn lower, to the place where the changing wind had blown her dress back against her like a second skin, revealing the secret she had protected for months.


	11. Chapter 11

_September 11, 2012_

It was blustery and hot, and the piazza surrounding the Duomo was as overrun with tourists as ever. But the girls who had practically begged her to come here so they could sketch alongside the 'real artistes' only laughed as the wind attempted to make off with the pages of their sketchbooks. Their joy was infectious, and despite the case of nerves she was fighting, Victoria found herself laughing right along with them as the wind wildly whipped her hair into her face.

She only turned around to get her hair under control, but that's when she saw him. Billy. Standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers, thousands of miles from the home she had just called. It felt like a dream, and for a minute she truly believed she was imagining him, that the heat had gotten to her and she had simply conjured him from her daydreams or her intense longing to see him. Then he smiled, his eyes full of tears and love and relief, and she knew he was real. He was there. He had found her.

He went blurry for a second as her own eyes watered, and she blinked him clear again, forcing the wetness down her cheek. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around his neck with the intention of never letting go, but when she stepped forward, he took two steps back. He wasn't looking at her face anymore, his eyes instead fixed on her midsection and the baby she had actually forgotten about for the first time since learning of its existence.

"I can explain," Victoria pleaded, though the words came out in a whisper that had no chance of being heard over the chaotic scene. "Please, let me explain."

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It wasn't how he was supposed to find out. She reached for him again, determined to pull him to her and make him hear her out, make him understand, but he retreated further away from her, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes still trained on her stomach. A pair of tourists wandered into the widening gap between them, oblivious to the scene they had drifted into. Victoria tried to get around them, to get to Billy, but he was moving still further away from her, allowing more and more people to come between them.

"Billy!" she shouted desperately over the crowd, but all she could do was watch helplessly as he turned his back to her and disappeared into the swarm of strangers just as quickly as he had emerged. She wanted to run after him, to push her way through these obtrusive people and make him listen to her. But she was in no condition to do that, and she couldn't leave the half dozen eleven-year-olds who were once again by her side, asking if she was okay, questioning who the man was.

Stunned, unsure once again if what had just happened was real, Victoria took a moment to collect herself and then turned to reassure the concerned faces that she was fine. But it was time to go, she told them. There was something important she had to do, a wrong she had to make right, but as she recalled the haunting look on Billy's face, she prayed it wasn't too late.

* * *

Billy didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stop because if he did, it would all be real, and it couldn't be real. He was literally seeing red, red dress blown tight against a roundness that meant only one impossible thing, as he moved through the twisting, turning streets of Florence, his strides full of purpose and force despite his lack of direction. He chose streets randomly, sometimes based on proximity, other times based on which ones were emptiest and thereby offered the fewest obstacles. They all looked the damn same anyway, cobbled and too narrow, lined with the same yellowish buildings with their green shutters and tiled roofs. For all he knew, he was choosing the same four streets over and over again, not that it mattered anyway.

He must have walked for hours because when the streets finally opened up revealing the Arno River like some merciful end to an ancient maze, it was dark out, and he was exhausted. Billy collapsed onto the concrete barrier that bordered either side of the river he had only seen on a map until now and surrendered to the aching of his muscles and the truth he had tried his best to escape.

She was pregnant. Victoria was pregnant.

He couldn't even begin to wrap his brain around the how and the why of that. All he could focus on was that she had lied to him. The hurt was suffocating, and he felt as though their whole life together had unraveled in that one moment in the piazza when he realized the truth behind why she had left, the enormous secret she had kept from him. And then worse than that, he had justified her actions and proven everyone right about him by running away again when the going got tough, callously throwing away the hours and days he had spent searching for her.

In the distance, across the river, a low rumble of thunder signaled the approach of the storm that Billy now realized had been in the making all day. Reluctantly, he stood and fished the map Mario had given him so long ago from his back pocket. He would need it, and a small miracle, to find his way back to the hotel. All he wanted was a hot shower and to sleep away this day. Maybe tomorrow he would be able to deal with what he had learned, to deal with her. That is if he could find her again.

* * *

The storm held off until Billy reached the hotel, but once inside his darkened room, a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft rustle of clothing alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. He didn't need to turn on a light to tell him who it was. He sensed her there, and the first flash of lightning, revealing Victoria curled up in one of the upholstered chairs by the windows, only confirmed what he already knew. Neither of them moved or spoke until the subsequent rumble of thunder faded and Billy finally flooded the room with light.

"Hi," she said quickly as she sat up in the chair, drawing her legs out from under the skirt of her dress as she did. She had been there for hours, since it was light out, just waiting for him to come back and hoping that he would. The sound of the door opening had sent a tidal wave of relief over her, and though she couldn't be sure, she thought she saw a look of relief cross his face as well.

"I've been worried about you," she added when he said nothing. "I'm glad you're okay."

Billy wondered if she had meant to say 'upright' or 'sober' instead of 'okay,' and he knew she would have been justified based on past experiences if she had. He couldn't look her in the eye yet, but he took note of the nervousness in her voice, like she was afraid he would bolt again at the sight of her. So, he put away his room key and leaned his back against the door as a sign he wasn't leaving and also to take some of the pressure off his tired legs. The tension in her bare shoulders eased a bit in response, but the emotional tension between them remained.

"How'd you find me?" His voice was raw, but controlled, and the irony of his question didn't go unnoticed by either of them.

"Phyllis," she admitted quietly, turning her eyes down. She didn't need to see his face to know how he would react to that name, not after the hurried, desperate call she had made to the redhead as soon as she had returned the girls to the convent school. Phyllis had told Victoria how badly Billy had taken her leaving, how he had angrily confronted her just two days ago, and that Nicholas was barely speaking to her now. Though less certain now that she'd be able to pull it off, Victoria had assured Phyllis once again that she'd take care of it when she got home if she'd do her just one more favor.

"She traced your credit card," Victoria explained. "And I told the guy at the front desk I was your wife, and since I'm….well, since…he let me right in." She placed a hand on her stomach to indicate the persuasive argument she had used.

"So I take it that's not a tumor?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head remorsefully.

"And you didn't just have a really big lunch today?"

He wasn't trying to be funny, she knew that. He was hurt, and she was the cause of it. Slowly, she stood, placed both hands on her stomach, highlighting it's roundness, and prepared to say the words she had said to him twice before, once as she ran excitedly down the stairs that first night in their new home and then again whispered in the dark the night before she left him.

"I'm pregnant."

He turned his eyes to the room's high ceiling and closed them momentarily as he expelled a shaky breath from his body. "And that's why you left? That's why you 'needed some time alone?'"

"I-it's a little more complicated than that, Billy…but yes, this is why I left."

"Is it not mine?"

His words stung her, and maybe the hurt part of him meant for them to. He knew her well enough to know he didn't need to ask that question, but the alternative, the only other reason he could come up with as to why she had kept the pregnancy from him was even harder to stomach. He finally looked her way and saw she was staring at him with steely blue eyes, and he put his hands up as a silent apology.

"Then why?" he asked and braced himself to hear that Victor had been right that night in his office. She had finally decided she was better off without him and without being tied to him by a child.

Victoria took a deep breath and walked around the chair to the window closest to her, putting more distance and obstacles between them. The size of the enormous casement made her seem smaller than she was, and Billy watched as the arms she normally wrapped protectively around herself in situations like these hugged her protruding belly instead.

"I always thought when this moment came," she started and then turned her gaze outside the window, "that I'd know exactly what to say."

"So talk."

But it wasn't that simple. She wasn't as good with words as he was, and all of the speeches she had practiced were no use now. She had planned to ease him into the truth, to reassure him of her love before dropping the bomb. Now, she didn't know what to say.

"I wanted to tell you," she said softly after a few minutes. "I wanted to tell you so bad, and I was going to, just as soon as the shock wore off."

A second flash of lightning illuminated the window, and Billy wished she would move away from it, but she didn't. "So why didn't you?"

"Connie called," she confessed. "Connie called and she told me you were at Newman to see my father. And then—"

"Then I hit the bastard and reminded you why you were better off without me," he finished for her. He thought if he said the words first, they would hurt less, but he was wrong.

"NO," she cried, a pained look of disbelief taking over her face as she spun around to face him. She made a move to go to him, but he put his hands up to warn her away. So she stayed where she was, wringing her hands as she battled to respect his wishes. "I never thought that, Billy. Never. I love you. I love you so much. And you have every right to hate my father. I hate him too, and I don't want anything to do with him ever again. It wasn't because you hit him, I swear. That's not why I didn't tell you."

Billy remained silent, but his face was breaking her heart. She never meant for him to think she didn't love him, didn't want to be with him. "I heard you," she whispered shakily as the tears began. "In the chapel after you got stitches. I heard what you said."

The memory of that day was clear in his mind, from the satisfaction he had felt when he first struck Victor to the tender way Victoria had taken care of him afterwards, but it took him a minute to remember what he had asked of God. 'No more babies,' the words finally echoed in his head. "I didn't mean it, Vick. Not like that."

"I know." She hugged herself tighter, feeling the storm inside her about to break loose. "You were hurting. We both were. After what happened with Chelsea…" She was struggling for words. There were so many things she wanted to say, others she was afraid of saying. She shook her head and sighed, "I just thought it would be better if I left."

"Better?" he asked harshly, snapping his head in her direction. His voice was angry and accusatory, and she could see his own storm raging. "You thought it would be better? Better for who? Because it wasn't better for me not knowing where you were. If you were okay or not. Wondering what I'd done to run you off or if I'd ever see you again. And it sure as hell wasn't better thinking you were with Sam. So who exactly was it better for, Victoria?"

"Me, okay," she shouted back. The tears were streaming now, and she didn't try to stop them. It was no use. "It was better for me. It was better for me to not watch you lose another child. This is my fifth pregnancy, Billy," she screamed, and the number startled them both. "Five. I'm used to it, and I just never wanted you to be."

Lightning flashed behind her, stronger and brighter than the previous flash, and barely even a second passed before a thunderous crack followed. Victoria doubled over in pain almost immediately, her hands low on her abdomen, at the same place she had held when she had the miscarriage. She grabbed the back of the chair in agony, and at the first sign of distress, Billy instinctively raced to her side.

"What it is? What's wrong?" he asked, panicked and sorry for yelling. One hand was on her back, the other rubbing the arm that gripped the chair as he waited, his heart racing, for her to answer him.

"He's a strong kicker," she said with a nervous laugh when the pain finally subsided and she could talk again. "And he doesn't like thunder I don't think."

There faces were so close together she could feel the breath he released hot on her cheek, and she was all too aware of his hand on the small of her back and the warm fingers that gripped her upper arm. They studied each other's faces shyly for the first time in three months. His eyes were red from exhaustion, and her face was stained with tears.

"He? It's a-it's a boy?"

"Oh. I, uh, actually…don't know. It's just a habit, I guess," she explained. "I didn't want to find out. Not without you."

He didn't react to her words, but they stayed that way, attached to each other, through another flash of lightning, neither one wanting to be the one to pull away.

"Do you want to feel?" Victoria eventually asked, overcome with emotion that she was able to ask him that question at last. She reached for his hand to move it to the spot where the baby was still kicking, but he pulled it away from her like he was afraid of being shocked. She stood with her hand frozen mid-air while he avoided the disappointment in her eyes.

"I think you should probably sit down or something," he said, deflecting from the awkwardness.

"Yeah, okay. But do you mind?" She gestured towards the antique bed in the center of the room and moved her hand to her back, near the spot where his hand had just been. "That chair's not as comfortable as it looks."

He nodded his approval and followed her to the bed, arranging pillows behind her once she'd crawled to the middle. He hovered over her a moment longer than was necessary and fought the urge to smooth a stray piece of hair off her face.

"Billy?" she said when he did leave her side. "I was coming back to you, I swear."

"Just rest, okay."

She nodded and settled into the pillows as Billy took up her old spot in front of the window. He heard her whispering behind him, obviously to the baby, and he was determined to not turn around. It was becoming too real, and he didn't know what to do or if he could handle it. He focused on the street below instead, where a few people were still rushing to get in out of the storm. So far, it had been all thunder and lightning, but as he stood there, trying not to hear the comforting words passed from mother to child, his child, the deluge began, pelting hard against the glass in front of him.

When he noticed she had been quiet for a while, Billy slid in front of the window until he could see the bed's reflection in the bottom corner. She had rolled onto her side, and her eyes were closed. He turned around and carefully walked closer to her, until the gentle rise and fall of her chest and stomach confirmed that she was asleep.

It was a bit of a relief that she had fallen asleep. He didn't have the strength to go on tonight, and obviously, neither did she. She looked cold lying there in only a thin sundress, so he pulled the bottom corner of the comforter over her and then walked to the door and turned out the light. Too exhausted to even think about the hot shower he had wanted earlier, Billy emptied the contents of his pockets onto the table by the chair and slipped his shoes off. His cell phone lit up when he dumped it, and he saw that he had missed at least a dozen texts from Kevin, all of them demanding he call him as soon as possible. Taking his phone with him, Billy dragged the chair closer to Victoria and sank into it.

"It's about time," Kevin said when he answered the phone. He was at the coffeehouse, and even though it was experiencing an afternoon lull, he went in search of a private corner to talk. "I have to tell you something about Victoria. And Dr. Lange. She's not sick, she's—"

"Pregnant," Billy interrupted in a whisper. "I know."

"You know? How? Did you find her?"

"Yeah, I found her," he replied, his eyes still studying the evidence of his discovery.

Kevin sighed loudly and rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "So, is she gonna be okay or what?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just…Dr. Lange…" he hesitated, suddenly aware that Billy didn't have all the information he did. "He specializes in high-risk pregnancies, Billy."

Billy sat up in the chair that Victoria was right about. It wasn't as comfortable as it looked, but right now, nothing about his situation was comfortable. "'High risk,' what does that mean?"

"I don't know. It could-it could mean a lot of things I guess. It's probably nothing." The line went quiet for a while, and Kevin sensed Billy was worried about what he had told him, or rather the thing he couldn't tell him for certain. "You want me to break into her medical records?" he offered, this time genuinely.

"No," Billy breathed, and before he hung up the phone, he asked Kevin to keep the pregnancy and everything he had learned about it to himself. There were people like Nikki who deserved to hear it from Victoria and others like Victor who didn't need to hear it at all.

She was still sleeping peacefully, and he envied her. There were still so many things he hadn't asked her, and now Kevin had given him something new to lose sleep over. Billy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and watched her face closely in the dim streetlight that shone through the window that continued to be pelted with raindrops. So many nights he had watched her sleep, and in spite of everything, he was grateful for one more chance.

As he sank back into the uncomfortable chair, his eyes drifted down her body, and Kevin's words about the mystery doctor rang in his head. "You better treat her right, kid," he muttered. "You better treat her right."

* * *

It started off as a whimper and then grew to the strangled, breathless cry of a newborn. It was her baby's cry, she knew that, felt it in the deepest part of herself, but she wasn't sure which baby it was. Maybe Reed, or Lucy, or one of the others. The room she was in was full of bassinettes, like the ones in a hospital's nursery, but each one she went to, each one that seemed to be the source of the crying turned up empty as she approached it. Victoria knew she was dreaming. She'd had this nightmare before, numerous times in the last three months, but usually she could wake herself from it. But not this time. This time she felt a growing sense of urgency as she ran frantically from empty crib to empty crib as the crying grew louder and louder. Something was fighting her, physically holding her back, but she fought harder, determined to find her child, determined to not let another one be taken away from her. But when she came to the last bassinette, her one last hope, it too was childless as a pair of hands carried the missing bundle away from her.

Billy had been watching her sleep for over an hour when she started to stir, his own mind still reeling too much for him to give in to the sleep he had been deprived of for days. It appeared she was having a nightmare, but he couldn't be sure since he'd never really seen her have one before. She was talking in her sleep and fighting some invisible monster, and the more agitated she became, the closer Billy inched towards her, unable to deny his instinct to protect her. By the time she bolted upright, releasing a blood-curdling 'noooooooo,' he was on the bed, his hands gripping her arms, begging her to wake up.

Her face was ashen, her eyes wild with a fear he had only seen when she had learned J.T. was taking Reed from her or all the times she'd lost Lucy. She studied his face hysterically as she tried to remember where she was and how he had gotten there, and then she turned her terror-filled eyes suddenly to her stomach, where her hands were searching frantically for something. She sat frozen with her mouth agape, and Billy realized she was waiting for the baby to move, for proof that it was still alive. Terror gripped him too until relief finally flooded her face.

"It's okay," he whispered gently, taking her into his arms. She was crying now, and her emotional release shook her whole body. "You're okay now," he said again. "You're both okay." He eased her back down onto the bed, his arm tight across her chest as he settled in behind her, and in a tangle of limbs and emotions, sleep finally claimed them both.


	12. Chapter 12

_September 12, 2012_

Victoria awoke to the shadowy grayness of predawn, her mouth dry and a heaviness across her chest. As her eyes adjusted to the faint light, her hand fumbled upward in search of the cause of the heaviness and with any luck a clue as to how and why she had spent the night in this strange place. All it took was one touch of the familiar, muscular arm, and all the scenes from yesterday replayed in her head, from the reunion in the piazza to him helping her climb into this bed. And everything, every word in between. The only thing that remained fuzzy was how he had ended up beside her, but as she softly caressed the arm that held her securely to him, she was happy he had.

Billy was still asleep. She could tell by the measured rhythm of his breathing behind her and a gut sense she had developed over hundreds of nights sharing the same bed with him. She wanted to stay where she was, to ease further back into his hold and pretend they were at home and that none of this, except for the baby, had happened. It was the baby, ironically, and its constant pressure on her bladder that made this desire an impossibility, and unable to ignore the urge any longer, Victoria rose slowly, sending Billy's arm sliding down her body until it landed on her legs at the place where the edge of the comforter met the twisted end of her dress. Careful not to wake him, she kicked herself free of the covers and then scooted across the empty half of the bed, reluctantly and finally severing the last bit of physical contact she had with him.

She returned from the bathroom several minutes later, rubbing her bare arms to generate heat and saw in the ever-increasing light that Billy had rolled onto his stomach and now clutched the pillow she had rested on all night beneath his own sleeping head. With his change in position, any hope she'd had of returning to his arms was lost, so her eyes instead turned down the length of the bed in search of the leather bag, his leather bag, the one she remembered seeing last night on the tufted bench at the foot of the bed. It was still there, and under it was the jacket she also remembered seeing. It was his grey one, the one he had worn the day he brought Lucy home to her, and she quickly pulled it free and slipped it on to get warm. It smelled like home, and him, and it was the next best thing to lying in his arms, she thought as she hugged it as close to her body as possible.

As she tiptoed across the room to the window, a trio of objects drew her attention to the table that last night had been flanked by two chairs, but now only had one. The chair she had spent hours in waiting for him had been moved closer to the bed, his cell phone resting on the seat, and with no memory to explain it, she assumed it meant he had learned of its uncomfortable design for himself and had purely chosen the bed and her out of exhaustion. When she reached the table, she picked up each of the objects, each piece of paper, and examined them closely: a map, a phrasebook, and an address, her address. Together they told part of the story she hadn't had a chance to ask him about last night, the story of how he'd found her despite the lengths she had gone to in order to not be found.

For three months she had tried to not think about what he was going through, for her own preservation, but now with the evidence all around her, she couldn't escape it. She had put him through the same hell she had suffered last year, the not knowing, the doubts, the helplessness. And on top of it, she had unintentionally played on his demons, his insecurities about being a good father and husband. Even though the situations couldn't be more different, or the reasons, she had essentially done the same thing Chloe had. She had kept a child from him, and now somehow she expected him to forgive her.

"Oh, little one," she whispered, her hand rubbing her belly through the thick jacket, "I really made a mess of things."

Outside in the now pink light, Florence was slowly coming alive. A couple walked their tiny, energetic dog down the middle of the empty street, and Victoria thought of Keely and wondered who was taking care of him. She didn't know what to do, didn't know if she should stay and wait for him to wake up or go and give him some breathing room. Ultimately, her stomach made the decision for her, its rumblings reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and as unfair as it seemed, the baby, keeping it safe and healthy, was still her top priority.

She walked back to the bed one last time and studied his face. He had looked so tired last night, because of her, so now she was glad he could sleep even it meant not being with him. A notepad brandishing the hotel's insignia lay on the nightstand beside her, and grabbing the matching pen, she scribbled a quick note. When she was finished, she leaned over his body and placed the paper where he would see it first thing when he woke, and before she left, before she walked away from him again, she placed a tender kiss on his forehead and pulled the comforter across his body, wishing him sweet dreams and a forgiving heart.

* * *

Billy would have sworn that every bit of the last twenty-four hours had been some strange, exhaustion-induced dream had it not been for two things: the lingering sweet scent that had gently tugged him out of unconsciousness and the note scribbled on hotel paper that greeted him when he finally forced his heavy eyes open. He closed them again almost immediately, burying his nose back into the pillow that bore proof Victoria had spent the night in his arms as he tried to forget he had ever seen the note he assumed meant she was now gone.

But his attempt at forgetting failed. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he rolled onto his back, wrestling with the comforter that now covered him instead of Victoria as he did. He felt drunk from sleep, like he had been out for days and could easily go right back. His body creaked with the aches of yesterday's physical marathon and the emotional hangover last night had left him with. As he rubbed the grogginess from his eyes with one hand, he plucked the note from the bed with the other and held it above his head so he could read the words she had left for him.

_ Billy,_

_ You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't want to leave without telling you how sorry I am. About last night. About __everything. I have a doctor's appointment today at 2:00, and I'd like you to come…if you want to. If you don't or if you're not ready yet, I'll __understand. The address is on the back of this note, along with my phone number and the address to the place I'm staying, which you might find __familiar. I'm not hiding anymore, Billy. I want to make things right with you, if you'll let me._

_ Love,_

_Victoria_

_ P.S. I borrowed your jacket. Hope you don't mind._

There it was in black and white, proof that yesterday had happened, that all of it was real, and when he flipped the paper over, he saw what she meant by her address being familiar. 25 Piazza San Marco, Number 14, he read and wondered how many times he had narrowly missed her. Billy let go of the paper, allowing gravity to return it to the bed as he stretched his arms above him and then clasped his hands behind his head. It was all so surreal, this place, this new reality, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he was unprepared to handle it.

He knew what he was supposed to do, knew that he should accept her invitation and at least get all the information he could before deciding anything else. There was obviously more to her disappearing than protecting him as she had said last night. The proof had been in her eyes and then later confirmed by Kevin's discovery about Dr. Lange. And then there was the nightmare, the memory of which Billy pushed from his mind as quickly as it had entered.

There was still time to make the appointment. If he jumped in the shower now, he could make it, and he could find out the answers to the questions that plagued him. All he had to do was get up and win the epic battle against his fleeing instinct.

* * *

Victoria shared the waiting room with two other pregnant women. Both had come in after she had, and both of their entrances had drawn her eyes expectantly to the door, only to be twice disappointed by the person who walked through it. It was already a few minutes after two. Her name would be called next, and there was still no sign of Billy, no indication that he was going to show up.

She patted a nervous beat on her stomach as she mentally kicked herself for not staying with him this morning. It had seemed like the right thing to do, for both of them. She knew how he internalized things, how he needed time to adjust; it was why she had planned to call him and tell him about the baby before leaving Florence, so he'd have a couple of days to cool off before she showed up. But now she wondered if she should have stayed and showed him how willing she was to fight for him, to fight for them. Maybe he had read her note and decided he wasn't ready, decided not to stay in Florence even. Or maybe he was simply still asleep.

The door opened for a third time, and just as with the two prior occasions a pregnant woman, farther along than she was, entered the waiting room. But before the door closed and just as Victoria exhaled sadly, a hand shoved it back open and Billy appeared in the doorway. He was clean-shaven and wore a fresh pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked around shyly as if trying to figure out whether or not he was in the right place, and Victoria offered a quick, discreet wave that alerted him to her presence.

He smiled appreciatively at her gesture and ignoring the curious looks from the other women, slid into the seat next to Victoria. She could tell by his body language, the way he leaned forward and avoided her eyes, that the walls were still up. But he was here. He had come, and there was no way she couldn't take it as a hopeful sign, a sign that he hadn't given up on her completely.

"They're, uh, they're not gonna do anything weird are they?" he asked suddenly as he wiped his sweaty palms on the denim covering his thighs.

They had been to a lot of doctor's appointments together in the short time they had been married, none of which Billy had been comfortable at. It was reassuring in a way to see that hadn't changed, and she felt he asked the question as much for her benefit, as an icebreaker, as for his own.

"No," she laughed softly. "It's just an ultrasound."

Even as she said it, it sounded silly and dishonest, and judging by the sidelong glance Billy gave her, he told her as much. It wasn't just an ultrasound. It was the ultrasound of the child they had wanted for so long, the one she had kept from him, the one he had found out about less than twenty-four hours ago. She opened her mouth to say something, to apologize or take it back, but he waved her off, signaling that he understood what she meant.

An awkward silence ensued, but fortunately didn't last long as Victoria's name was called and Billy saw firsthand how literally untrue 'just an ultrasound' was. He was simply an onlooker, perpetually in the way, as the nurse weighed Victoria, checked her blood pressure, and ordered her to give a urine sample. Everything was done with more seriousness than at any of the appointments they had gone to with Chelsea, which made his throat close up and his pulse quicken despite Victoria's calm demeanor. In the exam room, the nurse asked a series of questions in a broken mix of English and Italian. Victoria answered 'no' to each of them confidently, repeating parts of the questions in her responses. No, she hadn't been having headaches. No, no changes in her vision. No pain. No shortness of breath. He knew she did it for his benefit, to make him feel like a part of the process and that he should be thankful, but what he really wanted was an explanation of the bigger picture, the reason she had to see a specialist.

The nurse was still in the room setting up the ultrasound machine when the doctor, a short woman in her fifties, entered the room brightly and greeted Victoria, who was lying, waiting on the exam table.

"How's our civetta today?" the doctor asked. Her English was perfect, her accent American, except for the one word she spoke in Italian.

"Good," Victoria smiled, and turning to Billy, explained, "'Civetta' means 'little owl.' The baby likes to kick at night."

"Oh, I heard we had company today." The older woman turned her attention to Billy, who sat on the stool beside his wife and extended her hand. "You must be Billy. I'm Dr. Rossi, and I promise, English only from now on. I'm only Italian by marriage anyway."

Moments before, he had decided not to like her, based on the intimate knowledge she shared with Victoria, the nickname she had coined for his child long before he even knew of its existence. But there was something undeniable about Dr. Rossi that made him feel at ease, like he could trust her, and so he shook her hand and smiled at her confession.

"You weren't kidding about that smile," the doctor said, turning her focus back to Victoria, and despite the palpable tension in the room, they all three laughed and blushed at varying shades of red. "Now what do you say we take a look at the little owl for ourselves?"

Billy knew every inch of her body, every muscle, every freckle, every ticklish spot, but when she raised her shirt for the ultrasound, exposing the skin stretched tight over her protruding belly, he felt like he was sitting next to a stranger. He couldn't take it, what it meant, and had to look away, turning his eyes down to the floor instead.

"I hate this part," Victoria whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

For a second, he assumed she was referring to the gel Dr. Rossi was squirting onto her stomach, that it was cold, an uncomfortable shock to her skin, but as he managed a peek in her direction, he saw the truth. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, and the look on her face was the same nervous expression she had worn two Septembers ago when Dr. Okamura had told them their baby had no heartbeat. She was afraid this doctor would tell her the same thing.

She had one arm positioned behind her neck, but the other, the one closest to Billy lay beside her on the exam table, gripped in a fist. He slipped his own hand tentatively beneath hers, and at his touch, her hand relaxed enough to let his fingers slip naturally, perfectly between hers. She squeezed it gratefully and traded the ceiling tiles for his steady blue orbs, holding his gaze until Dr. Rossi indicated all was well and she turned her eyes to see for herself that the baby was indeed okay.

Billy had witnessed a miracle before, holding Delia for the first time. That was a miracle in the way that all babies, all life is a miracle, but what he saw when he turned his head to the screen was a miracle in a different league. He was staring at the impossible, the one thing the universe and a doctor had told them couldn't happen, could never exist. And yet, there it was in front of him, wriggling, waving its arms as if trying to get his attention. It was beautiful, and he bit the inside of his lip hard, too hard, to keep his emotions in check, but he felt a hot tear roll down his cheek anyway.

"You mentioned travel plans on the phone," Dr. Rossi said after a while, drawing them both out of their reverie.

"Yeah, yes," Victoria answered, wiping a tear from her own cheek as she cast a furtive glance in Billy's direction. "I, um, was planning on going home tonight. To the states. But…now my plans are sort of up in the air."

The doctor shook her head positively as Victoria talked, while her eyes pored over the pages of the file. Billy tried to follow the conversation, tried to piece together each new bit of information, but all he could really focus on was the image still frozen on the monitor.

"Well, everything looks great, Victoria. No signs of preeclampsia so far. You're healthy, the baby's healthy, so I see no reason you can't travel. But," she added, "I wouldn't wait too much longer if you plan on giving birth in the states. For your own comfort and because you wouldn't want to go into premature labor mid-flight."

Victoria nodded her understanding, and when the doctor moved to leave, Billy stood also, making an excuse that he needed to use the restroom while Victoria got herself together. But in the hallway, he caught up to the woman who had just shown him his child.

"How serious is it? Preeclampsia?" he asked, hoping he would finally get the answers he needed.

"It can be very serious," she answered honestly. "For mother and child. And it can come on suddenly."

"What's the cure? I mean, you can treat it, right?"

"The only cure is delivery, Mr. Abbott." Her tone was grave now, not the cheery one she had taken in the exam room. "But with proper prenatal care, I expect the best outcome possible for both of them."

He didn't know what else to say, didn't have enough information to even come up with more questions, and she must have sensed his desperation.

"Look," she said. "Victoria is my best patient. She does everything I ask of her and then some. My job is to make sure both she and the baby are healthy and remain that way until delivery." She paused until she was certain that information had settled into his brain. "That's your job, too, you know? And I'm not entirely schooled on what's going on between you two, but I know Victoria needs you in her corner. And if you can't do it, you need to find someone who can."

Dr. Rossi then pulled a pamphlet out of a display case and handed it to him with a challenging look before disappearing into her office. He felt he had just been admonished by one of his sisters, a feeling that made him realize why he liked her so much. He folded the pamphlet entitled 'FAQ's about Preeclampsia' in half and slipped it into his back pocket just as Victoria exited the exam room, smiling and holding two copies of the sonogram picture.

"You hungry?" she asked and handed him one of the pictures. "There's a good place a couple of blocks from here…and I'm starving."

He didn't say 'yes' or 'no' but simply let her lead the way as he stared at his first photograph of their child and let Dr. Rossi's words continue to sink in.

* * *

"How's Delia?" Victoria asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The day wasn't nearly as hot as yesterday, the storm having chased away what she hoped was the last of summer, and the outdoor café she had led him to after the doctor's visit was only half full due to the odd hour. Still, Billy was quiet and growing quieter with each minute that passed. He kept finding things to occupy his attention, anything other than her, but the question about Delia produced the result she had wanted.

"I've been thinking about her a lot," Victoria continued when he finally looked up, giving her his full attention. "It's been a year since…since she was diagnosed, and I was just…I've asked Reed about her but, you know…"

"She's good," he answered with the hint of a smile. "I mean, she's healthy. And happy. She misses you."

Victoria smiled as she thought about the little girl, relieved to learn that she was nearly a year cancer-free. "I miss her too. I miss everybody. But mostly I've missed you."

Billy sighed and looked away again, seeking refuge in the nearly empty plate in front of him. Victoria had ordered, naturally, since the menu was in Italian. She had picked out a pasta dish he had never had before, but one that now rivaled his love for Gina's lasagna. It only served as a reminder of how well she knew him and his likes, and that, juxtaposed with the way she easily conversed with the waitress, made him uncomfortable. It was weird hearing her voice and not being able to understand her, and the language barrier gave the whole situation a more dream-like quality, symbolic of his inability to comprehend this turn of events and his own muddled state of thought.

"I wish you would say something," she said quietly, noticing he had retreated back into himself. "We need to talk about this."

He laughed. It was a dry, cutting laugh, and Victoria braced herself for another round. She didn't care how brutal he got, as long he talked. They wouldn't be able to move past this unless the air was cleared. But when he finally did speak, she was surprised by what he said and the tender way he said it.

"You could die."

"I'm not going to die." She tried to be reassuring, but neither of them bought it.

"But you're scared, aren't you? At least for the baby. That's what the dream was about, wasn't it?"

Victoria wrinkled her forehead in confusion, and he saw that she didn't remember. But then the missing part of last night came flooding back to her in a tidal wave: the dream, the terror, the way he had held her afterwards. That was how he ended up beside her, not because the chair was uncomfortable.

"It was just a dream," she squeaked out, embarrassed by what had happened and because she hadn't remembered. "Pregnancy makes you have weird dreams. It's stress, that's all."

But he wasn't letting her off the hook, not about the seriousness of her situation or about the dream. "Who's Eve?" And when she didn't answer, and only stared at him in disbelief, he explained, "You were talking in your sleep. You called out for Reed and Lucy. And then you said 'Eve.' Who is she?"

Victoria looked to her lap and her fidgeting hands that lay there in front of her belly. She heard him sigh again, loudly, exasperated with her, and she took several calming breaths of her own. Looking up, she met his eyes and told him the truth. She had to be honest with him, had to put herself on the line if he was ever going to understand.

"She's my daughter. She was my daughter."

Billy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He already had a sense of what she would say next, and part of him wanted to stop her, to spare her the pain. He knew there had been other marriages and other babies, just as she had known there had been other women and addictions. They had both lived full lives before their paths became inexplicably intertwined, but today, he was learning all sorts of things he never knew about her.

"I was really young," she said and smiled wistfully. "It was my first pregnancy, and the relationship was pretty much over. I got appendicitis in the second trimester, and they had to deliver her or I would have died." She stopped for a second, visibly reliving that part of her life. "I didn't get to hold her. But I saw her. Once. She was so tiny, but Billy, she was beautiful."

"Of course she was," he said, his lip trembling. "You were her mother."

It was all he could offer, the only thing he could think of to say to this woman he loved, this woman who had just laid her heart out for him. He tried to think back, to remember if he'd ever known about this. It was funny, their families had known each other, been rivals for decades, but he and Victoria had never really crossed paths in their separate lives.

"I know the risks, Billy," Victoria said after she'd composed herself again. "I know all about them, and I'm doing everything I can to make sure this turns out the way I want it to. But if it comes down to a choice, I'm always going to choose my child over myself, and don't tell me you wouldn't do the same. I know you. I know you would have switched places with Delia in a heartbeat last year. Any parent would. This is no different."

He couldn't argue with her, though he wanted to. Everything she had said was true, but none of it made him feel better, none of it made the situation any easier or clearer to understand.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get the check, and I'll walk you home."

"This isn't my home," she protested softly, and they sat there staring at each other in a visual stalemate until the waitress finally brought the check, releasing them from their obligation to stay.

* * *

The walk to her apartment had been silent, and when they reached her door, a sense of déjà vu swept over Billy. He took her keys from her hands and she let him, let him do this for her, and when the door swung open, she walked inside and turned to allow him entry as well. But he stood on the other side like a force field prevented him from crossing the threshold.

"You want to come in?" she asked hopefully. "We can talk or something."

He swung her keys around the key ring nervously before meeting her eyes. "I, uh, think I'm going to go for a walk. And you should rest. The doctor said you needed more rest."

He caught the look of disappointment in her eyes, though she accepted his response stoically, shaking her head. He wasn't giving her what she needed, he knew that, but he wasn't ready or even certain he could, especially after the emotional afternoon they had just shared.

"You should call your mom. She's worried about you."

"She's not-?"

"No," Billy interrupted quickly, sensing her fear that her disappearance had messed with her mother's sobriety. "She's been great, a real rock. But I know she'd love to know you're okay."

She nodded and then in a tiny voice that nearly broke his heart asked, "You hate me, don't you?"

"No, Vick, I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He reached down and lovingly took hold of her hand for the second time today, forcing her wet blue eyes up to meet his. "I'm in shock, okay. You've had months to get used to this. I've only had a day."

He then opened her palm with his hand, dropped her keys inside and closed her fingers over them. With one last look, he pulled his hand away and left, leaving Victoria standing in the open doorway, wondering when he would come back or if things would ever be right between them again.


	13. Chapter 13

_September 12, 2012_

The ranch was always pretty quiet this time of day, but it felt particularly deserted this morning. Nicholas and the kids were off to work and school, Victor was out of town on business, and consequently, the number of staff on hand was at a minimum. But on the bright side, Nikki had the place to herself for a little while, a few hours to get lost down memory lane in the house that, no matter where she laid her head at night or the status of her relationship with Victor, would always be her home.

Depositing her riding crop and helmet on the sofa, she took a nostalgic turn about the living room, gently touching the objects that triggered memories of holidays and conversations with the people she was missing right now. She stopped when she came to the mantle and one of several displays of family photos. There were ones of Nicholas, Abby, the grandchildren, but it was the one of Victoria she picked up. She hadn't heard a word from Billy in days. He hadn't told her he was going to find Victoria, hadn't even mentioned it when he discovered she wasn't in New Mexico as they had been led to believe. Jack had been the one to fill her in, and later Jill confirmed it, all too pleased that for once she knew something Nikki didn't. She didn't care, though. Jill could gloat all she wanted as long as Billy found her, as long as her daughter was okay.

Nikki lovingly stroked Victoria's face through the glass and then returned the photo to its place among the others. As she stood there wondering if they would ever all be together again, her eyes caught sight of the shimmering bottles at the bar across the room. This time last year, the temptation to ease her longing with a drink would have been so much greater, but today, knowing how much all the others were counting on her, how she had to stay strong for Victoria, the urge was only a faint memory. Instead, she finished her tour of the living room at the piano, her piano. She was the only one who played it anyway. Running her fingers across the keys, she positioned them to play the first note of a lullaby she used to sing to Victoria, and when she pressed down and the sound reverberated through both the room and her body, Nikki closed her eyes and once again in her mind was cradling a beautiful blonde child with the biggest blue eyes she had ever seen. She only made it a few notes into the tune before an opposing sound, the shrill ringing of her phone, halted her playing.

"Hello," she answered frantically, positive it was her son-in-law finally returning her calls.

"Mom. It's me…Victoria."

There was no need for the person on the other end of the line to identify herself. Nikki recognized the voice at the utterance of the first syllable and clutched her hand to her chest out of shock and in a futile attempt to control her emotions.

"Victoria, sweetheart, is it really you? I've been so worried about you."

"Yeah, mom, it's me, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to worry, I just-I just—"

"No, no, no," Nikki interrupted, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's all right. It's all right, my angel. Are you okay? Did Billy find you? Are you in Italy?"

Victoria accepted her mother's barrage of questions as she struggled to control her own overwhelming emotions. She had called at Billy's urging, to ease her mother's worrying, but at the sound of the familiar, comforting voice and after everything she had been through today, Victoria had broken down, realizing how much she missed her mother and really needed her right now.

"Yes," she finally answered through tears. "I'm in Italy, Billy found me, and I'm-I'm okay."

"No, you're not," Nikki said and sat up alert, her mother's intuition on high alert. "Something's wrong. I can hear it in your voice."

Victoria ran her free hand through her tangled hair and exhaled loudly as she searched for the words to explain everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours as well as the last three months. "There's something I have to tell you. The reason I left. The reason Billy's never going to forgive me. Mom, I'm-"

"Did you call, Mrs. Newman?" a voice interrupted, and Nikki briefly turned her attention from the phone call to see an apologetic Bonnie with her hands across her mouth. The girl removed them and mouthed 'I'm sorry' as Nikki dismissed her with a wave that said it was okay.

"Was that Bonnie?" Victoria asked, suddenly emotionally sober. "Are you at the ranch?"

Nikki detected a hint of concern and annoyance in her daughter's voice, even from thousands of miles away and instantly knew the cause. "Your father's not here."

"You're not back with him, are you?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm not. I just came for a ride." And it was true, but not exactly full disclosure. There was no need to tell her that she and Victor had grown close again in the wake of her disappearance or that consequently, she and Jack were growing further and further apart. She knew Victoria blamed her father for what happened with Chelsea, and rightly so for the most part, but she also knew how much Victor loved their firstborn and how he blamed himself for her absence, how she had cut him out of her life just days before her leaving.

When Victoria didn't say anything in response, Nikki tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Now what were you going to say? About Billy. About why you left."

"Oh, it's, um, not important right now," Victoria said. "I just wanted to call and let you know I'm okay."

Nikki knew her daughter was withdrawing because of the mention of Victor, could tell she still blamed him. But it was okay. She was okay, at least physically, and that was good enough for right now.

"Now, you listen to me," Nikki said before Victoria ended the call. "Billy loves you. He loves you so much, just as much as you love him. Whatever it is, whatever the reason you left, you give him some time. He'll forgive you. Just like you forgave him."

They said a tearful goodbye, and Victoria promised to call her mother again soon. She wanted to believe her parting words, that Billy would forgive her, wanted it more than anything, but Nikki didn't know about the baby. She hadn't been able to tell her, not after talk had turned to her father, and the memories of everything he had put her through, them through, had reminded her once again why she was doing all this.

Stretching across her bed, the bed she had called hers for the last three months anyway, Victoria rubbed her belly and tried to let the tension of the day ease out of her muscles. She hoped that wherever he was, that after seeing the baby for himself today, Billy too would understand why she had gone to such extremes. But if not, if he couldn't forgive her like Nikki believed he would, she would have to prepare herself for that. Somehow, she would have to prepare for the possibility of not spending the rest of her life with the man she loved.

* * *

Churches were the new bars. Billy wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, or when, but the transition seemed connected to Victoria, to falling in love with her. And maybe, just maybe, it was also a bit of a sign of maturity.

He hadn't walked very far from Victoria's apartment, maybe only ten minutes or so, when he'd sought sanctuary in the church he sat in now. It was a small, unassuming building, but only compared to the grandness of the cathedral they had met at a day ago. The ceilings still soared high above him, boasting intricately carved and arranged wooden beams and supported by smooth marble columns, and the centuries-old stone walls were lined with colorful depictions of the Virgin Mary holding an infant Jesus, proof that in Florence, even the churches were museums. There were two rows of pews, simple and wooden in design, separated by a long aisle that led to the altar and the ornate crucifix that rose above it. It was the stillest place he had ever been, like a collected breath held in anticipation of a miracle. And in this place, miracles seemed possible.

Billy had chosen his seat carefully: left side, near the back, middle of the pew, a seat where he would be neither conspicuous nor intrusive. He was alone except for an old woman down front, kneeling at one of the pews across the aisle, her head bowed, her fingers expertly working the beads of a rosary while Billy's hands loosely held both the pamphlet Dr. Rossi had given him and the ultrasound photo he had accepted from Victoria. He had been acutely aware of each crinkle that echoed through the cavernous structure as he pulled the folded paper from his pocket and straightened it out. But the woman, the only person he could bother, was so deep in her prayers that she didn't move, didn't even act as though she heard him. Billy wondered what that felt like, to have so much faith, so much devotion to something that nothing could stir you.

The pamphlet was full of facts, lists of symptoms, risk factors, treatments, and statistics. But nowhere in the glossy pages were the answers he sought. Nowhere was there a guarantee that Victoria would be okay or that she would get to keep this baby.

And nowhere did it tell him how to forgive.

Minutes passed in the stillness, and the woman of faith finally made the sign of the cross over her chest and rose with some difficulty from her knees. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement as she passed by Billy, and once he heard the heavy door close behind her, he released a breath and relaxed into the hard bench.

"I don't understand you," he confessed into the air that smelled faintly of incense.

There was more he wanted say, but all the words and feelings, the accusations, the questions were knotted up in a suffocating ball at the base of his throat. It was for the best anyway, because out of the corner of his eyes, Billy saw him, a man in an expensive suit with neatly-combed silver hair.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," he said as his father, or least his imagining of his father, took the seat beside him. "You here to tell me what a selfish jerk I'm being? Cause I already know."

"Nah, I just came to get a look at my newest grandchild."

Billy turned his eyes to where John's lay on the ultrasound photo in his hand. It was one of those 3D ones that made everything seem so real and so alive, an image that showed clearly a human being and not some grainy alien blob. The baby's eyes were closed, but its mouth was open, and Billy could have sworn it was grinning at him, so much so that he smiled back in spite of everything else.

"That's one good-lookin' kid you have there. I think it has the Abbott charm already."

"She didn't tell me," Billy said in a hushed tone to protect the sanctity of the place. "After everything we've been through…she couldn't tell me about this?"

His question hung in the air between them for a long time, unanswered, unacknowledged even, by the man he always counted on for advice. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say, Billy? That you're right? That Victoria's human and made a mistake? That you're justified in being angry with her?"

"No," Billy said, but he may have meant 'yes.' His father's tone was as stern and loving as always, a combination that made him feel defensive and undeserving. "Look, I know I'm being a hypocrite here. After all the things she forgave me for."

"It's not about the things she forgave you for. It's about why she forgave you, why anyone of us forgives you for that matter. She loves you. She understands you mess up sometimes, and you need to do the same for her. Without forgiveness, Billy, there is no love."

His father's words were true, he knew that, and they stung him. But there was a disparity between knowing and doing. "I just need a sign or something. I need to know—"

"You want the easy way out," John finished. "You want to know that everything's going to be all right, don't you? That's not how it works, son. Life is about choices, not signs. There are signs all around you, but it's up to you to choose how you interpret them."

"So I get to choose if this baby means Victoria and I are supposed to be together or not? I get to choose if it lives?" Billy was getting angry, tired of the circular speeches designed to make him think rather than give him answers.

"No," his father scolded, finally giving him a straightforward response. "You have no say in the fate of this child. What you _do_ have is a say in your relationship with Victoria. You decide if you can get past this. You decide if this baby will have two loving parents. If Victoria will have the support and love she needs for the rest of her pregnancy. That's what you get to do, Billy."

Billy looked up from where his eyes had once again been studying his child's image to find that his father had vanished as quickly as he had appeared, that he was alone again in a strange church, in a strange city, in a position he had never been in before. He was used to asking for forgiveness, not the other way around. His father's last words rang in his head and seemed to echo off the walls, reminding him of another piece of recent advice, the prayer that had opened each of the AA meetings Nikki had dragged him to over the course of the summer.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change," he repeated uneasily and let the stillness of the chapel take over his mind, "the courage to change the things I can...and the wisdom to know the difference."

He closed his eyes as he prayed, and he saw them, him and Victoria, in good times, laughing, dancing on a beach, reciting vows. He saw sad times, the miscarriage, Lucy, when they had fallen apart. He relived the grief of May, discovering what Chelsea had put them through, but this time he added the knowledge of Victoria finding out she was pregnant, having the hope of another child dangled in front of her on the heels of losing another. He didn't understand fully, probably couldn't, but he understood enough to know why she had felt like running away.

Finally, he saw his life without her, the shallow existence he had survived on before her and the last three months he had suffered through without her. He needed Victoria in his life, wanted her, loved her. They made perfect sense now, her vows at Christmas. Being without her just felt wrong, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't unring a bell or unlove someone just because they had hurt you.

He had to go to her. Now. He had to choose to make things right before it was too late.

* * *

Billy was out of breath by the time he reached her door, from sprinting and from the nervous energy that plagued him, but unlike yesterday, there was no hesitancy when it came to knocking, not another second he was willing to waste. She didn't answer right away, and remembering his order for her to rest, he knocked again, harder than before in case she was asleep. But after a third round of unanswered knocking, his nervousness was replaced with terror, and all he could think about was that pamphlet and the list of worst-case scenarios. Stroke. Seizure. What if he was too late? What if she was in there lying on the floor, needing him, and once again he had failed her?

"VICTORIA," he shouted at the top of lungs as he continued his assault on the door. Again and again he called her name, each time begging her to open up or at least answer him. He was panicking, his heart racing right out of his chest, his entire body shaking with fear and regret. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked, searched the doorframe for a spare key, but there was none. He shoved himself against the door, desperate to break it down, while behind him, the neighbor from yesterday appeared from nowhere, shouting hysterically at him, words he couldn't understand, words he couldn't care less about understanding. And then, just as he took two steps back and prepared to hurl himself against the barrier, it opened, and Victoria appeared in the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, undeniably outraged.

The adrenaline he had been relying on drained from his body in a hurry, leaving him frozen and on the verge of collapsing. Victoria pulled him roughly into her apartment and then stepped into the hallway where the neighbor woman was still shouting at him. Calmly and in Italian, she managed to coax the woman back into her own apartment before any more of her neighbors could show up and make a similar scene.

"What is wrong with you?" Victoria shouted once she was back inside and the rest of the world was safely behind the closed door.

"You didn't-you didn't answer the door," he stuttered. "I thought something was wrong."

"I was in the SHOWER. I didn't hear you."

That's when he noticed she was wearing a bathrobe that stopped just above her knees, that her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose bun, and a bead of water still clung to her left earlobe. "How was I supposed to know that?" he shot back defensively. "I mean, it's like six o'clock. Who takes a shower at six o'clock?"

"I do! I take a shower at six o'clock. I couldn't rest, okay? And it's too early to call Reed, I already called my mom, and sometimes-sometimes a warm shower helps me relax."

She was irate. The pale blue eyes that could go from icy to fiery in a matter of seconds were shooting flames his direction. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, except when they were busy gesturing at him. Her nostrils were flared, her lips pursed together, and every few seconds she stomped her foot like a petulant child. He couldn't help it. He smiled.

"What?" she seethed at his amusement.

"You're pissed."

"Yeah, I'm pissed. You were banging at my door like a maniac." Her hormones were raging, and all he could do was laugh. She wanted to stay mad though she was still the one at fault, the reason they were in this situation to begin with, but there was something different between them, something different about him. The tension was gone. The walls were gone. It was just the two of them again, a realization that made her breath catch slightly in the back of her throat. "Why are you here?" she asked softly, both terrified and hopeful. "Why did you come back?"

He was two steps away from her, two steps he took slowly, deliberately, his eyes glued to hers the whole time. The space between them was infinitesimal now, just a sliver of body heat between the solid plane of his torso and the roundness of her belly. Her eyes shimmered with moisture, and when he raised his hand to touch her face, to gently caress her cheek, to push back a stray lock of hair, to take possession of the tiny bead of water from her earlobe, she sucked in a halting breath of expectant air as he finally answered her question.

"To do what I should have done yesterday."

The kiss was soft, a tender touch of lips on lips, a gentle reintroduction after months apart. Foreheads together, he breathed her in, the scent of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. It was a moment he could have frozen forever, they both could have. But then she exhaled. She exhaled the breath she had been holding, the emotional release that had been building. It freed her and cleared the way for desire and the hunger that had gone unsatisfied since that last night they had spent together. He read her eagerness, the parting of her lips and kissed her harder, pulling her closer to him, eliminating even the infinitesimal space between them.

"You forgive me?" she gasped when they parted at last, breathless, and she searched his face for an answer as the tears that had threatened before now rolled down her cheeks.

"I love you," he breathed, wiping her tears as quickly as they came. "Of course I forgive you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was scared, and I panicked."

"I know, I know. I get it. And I'm sorry too. For walking away."

She shook her head no, unable to speak but needing to tell him she understood.

"I'm not going to promise you everything's going to be okay," he continued, still holding her face between his hands. "I did that before, and it-it's just not something I can guarantee. And I know you're scared. I am too, Vick. I'm scared, too. But I'm gonna be here. I'm gonna be with you no matter what happens, because me and you, we're meant to be."

His words were calming, his admittance of fear strangely reassuring. There was more to say, and they knew they would talk. Later, they would talk and clear all of the air between them, but tonight, right now, the need to reconnect, physically and emotionally, was paramount to any words they could say.

He kissed her again, long and hard, and she returned it with just as much force and desire. Stumbling together, she steered them towards the bedroom as his hands moved to release her hair from its loose confines, while hers sought the end of his t-shirt and the warm skin beneath it. In one quick move, Billy let go of her and reached over his head, pulling his shirt off, exposing the muscles she knew by heart and by touch, but when her fingers went to work on the button of his jeans, he stopped her suddenly by placing his hand on top of hers.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he said, ending the flurry of kisses as well. She looked up, confused and more than a little afraid he had changed his mind. "Is it okay… I've never…I don't want to hurt you."

His honesty was touching, but she laughed in relief and rested her forehead against his again. "Yes, it's okay. I promise. I mean, we might have to get a little creative. Try some new positions."

He laughed as well, relaxing into her touch again. "There are positions we haven't tried?"

"Maybe one or two," she smiled and then, in a move that surprised them both for different reasons, she took a step away from him. Nervously, she undid the ties of her bathrobe and let the soft fabric fall to a puddle on the floor, baring herself and all of her secrets to him. He had seen her belly at the doctor's office, but the image that stood before him now was breathtaking, a work of art known only to him. Finishing the job she had started earlier, Billy removed the rest of his clothes and then reclaimed the step she had taken in order to finally do what he had been so scared of the night before. His hands were shaking as they pushed through the air and didn't stop until he placed them tenderly, lovingly on her stomach. New tears began for each of them as an entire conversation passed wordlessly between them, an acknowledgement of loss, of love, of all the good, unexplainable things in the universe. They stayed that way, connected hand to belly, with nothing between them until their desire could no longer be denied.

He was gentle with her, even a little tentative, and Victoria knew it was because this was uncharted territory for him, for them. She was happy to take the lead in a final, self-imposed condition of forgiveness. And he let her, knowing all too well that true forgiveness was an act of two people and that all that mattered was that they were together again.

* * *

"You okay?"

Victoria roused at the sound of his voice in her ear and snuggled back into his arms, taking pleasure in the fact that this day was ending nearly just as it had begun. Only better. "I'm perfect."

He was behind her, propped against the headboard, his arms folded across her chest, tangled with hers. Slowly, he unwrapped them, and while normally she would have been disappointed by his movement, this time she smiled. His hands slid down to her stomach, and she placed hers atop his as he explored the new terrain, memorizing it, relishing the feel of their miracle.

"You're pregnant," he whispered in her ear, a sense of awe in his voice.

She felt him smiling against her head, and despite the fears and worries she still carried, Victoria smiled too. "I still can't believe it either."

"How? I mean…"

"I don't know," she answered honestly and shrugged. "I guess doctors don't know everything."

"When did it happen?"

"You know, it's nearly impossible to determine an exact date of conception." She was very official in her delivery, but the widening smile on her face belied the truth as she believed it to be.

"But you know, don't you? You know," he accused her playfully. "Tell me."

"Mid-March," she hinted and laughed as he continued to rub her midsection like it was a crystal ball that would tell him the answer.

Billy wrinkled his forehead as he traveled back in time and the puzzle slowly began to unravel. "Santa Monica. St. Patrick's Day," he guessed, and she nodded that he had guessed correctly. "But which time? Huh? I mean there was the first time. Then the encore. There was the shower-"

"And the balcony," she butted in.

"Hey, the balcony was your idea."

"I know," she laughed, and then sat up suddenly. "Did you feel that? He kicked."

Billy had, and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever felt. "You said it again. 'He'"

"Okay, so _she_ kicked again."

"You know, you're gonna give our kid gender issues."

Our kid. She would never tire of hearing him say that. "We can find out, if you want. We could have found today, but I sort of forgot."

"That depends," Billy said. "Did you not find out because of me? Or is it because you're afraid?"

She turned in his arms just enough so she could see his face, but kept a hold of his hands. "A little of both, honestly. But also….I wanted to be surprised with Reed, and that kind of got ruined. I don't know," she shrugged, "there's just something about being surprised."

"Okay, so surprised it is," he agreed and kissed her on the head. "Hey, how'd your mom take the news?"

"I, um, I didn't tell her."

"Good, then we can tell her together. We can just show up in Genoa City and give everybody the shock of their lives."

He felt her stiffen in his arms, and he shifted to see her face more clearly, afraid she was in pain, that something was wrong with the baby. "What is it?" he asked.

"I changed my mind, Billy," she whispered without looking at him. "I'm not ready to go home."


	14. Chapter 14

September 13, 2012

"Mmmmm." A long, groggy moan escaped Billy's lips as he stretched the last bit of sleep from his body. He could feel sunlight warm against his back, but the bed he lay in was cold and empty. Blindly, he patted further across the soft sheet in search of the woman he had spent the night with, but his searching was futile. Victoria wasn't there, and that realization forced Billy's eyes open in a panic as all of the worst possibilities of why she was missing flooded his mind.

"You looking for me?"

Her soft voice floated into the room at the height of his panic, relaxing him instantly, and Billy rolled onto his back to see Victoria standing just inside the doorway they had stumbled through last night, a steaming mug in either hand. She was once again wearing the robe she had answered the door in, and all Billy could think about was the bold way she had stood in front of him without it hours earlier. She wasn't as bold this morning, however, a look of shyness and hesitancy dominating her beautiful face, and Billy knew from experience that she was waiting to see if anything had changed in the clear light of day, if he had changed his mind about forgiving her or about wanting to be with her again. But she had nothing to worry about, and the smile he flashed her in response told her as much. Even to his surprise, the weight of forgiveness was nonexistent, the burden of a feather, and Billy felt lighter and freer and more in love with her than ever.

"Morning," she said, happily accepting his grin for what it meant and returning it easily as she made her way towards him. "Here. I made you some coffee. I was going to make you breakfast too, but, um, I don't really have anything since I wasn't planning on being here this morning."

He sat up and took the mug Victoria offered as she precariously reclaimed her spot beside him in bed while trying not to spill the contents of the mug she kept for herself. "That's okay. I have everything I could possibly want right here," he said, and once she was settled, he leaned in for a soft morning kiss.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asked after they had each taken a sip of steaming liquid.

"Me? I slept like a—" He stopped himself and laughed before he could finish the common phrase that had new meaning for him now, and placing his free hand on her belly, the part of her body he was still getting used to, Billy moved his mouth teasingly close to her ear, so close she giggled and tried to pull away. "Like a baby," he finally whispered and then remembering both her agitation from the night before and the nickname Dr. Rossi had used for their baby yesterday, he asked, "How about you? This one keep you up or, uh, anything?"

"Some. But I'm used to it, and I usually make up for it in the afternoon."

Even though she had avoided the second part of his question, the vague reference to her nightmare, Billy accepted her answer with a nod, assuming he would have known if the dream had recurred. And with all of the pleasantries, the casual talk out of the way, a quietness fell between them, the unspoken words from last night clearly still on each of their minds, and simultaneously, in a synchronized act, they sought refuge in their mugs. They hadn't talked after making love, after her confession about not being ready to go back to Genoa City. She'd had to call Reed instead, needed to and wanted to since she had missed talking to him the night before, and Billy had had calls to make too, to Delia and his mom, both of whom he mentioned nothing of the baby to, only that he was with Victoria and all was good. Then she had ordered a late dinner, he had picked it up, and they'd spent the rest of the night lost in each other, rediscovering each other. But now, this morning, they knew it couldn't be avoided any longer.

"About last night," Victoria started once she'd removed her lips from the rim of her mug, "…what I said about not being ready to go home…" As she spoke, her gaze remained fixed on the contents of the mug that now rested in her lap, and her fingers fidgeted with the string that hung over the side, the one Billy hadn't noticed until now, the one that revealed she was of course drinking tea instead of coffee.

"…I'm not really sure where that came from," she continued, "but I-I meant it. I still mean it. I thought I might feel different this morning, but I don't. The idea of getting on a plane and going back to Genoa City, it scares me, Billy." She looked up to see his reaction, fearful of what she would find, but all she got was an intense stare that told her he was listening. That was all he was doing, listening, to her, to her fears, to what she had to say.

"What is it that scares you? The flight? Something at home? I mean you were ready to come home before, so what changed?"

"I don't know really. It's kind of hard to explain, and I'm…" She sighed an exasperated sigh, frustrated that she couldn't articulate what she was feeling, and seeing this and the beginnings of tears in her eyes, Billy sat his mug on the nightstand so he could better be there for her, taking her hand in his, shifting closer to her, wordlessly telling her he was there whenever she was ready.

"I wanted to go home because of you," she eventually confessed. "Because I needed you and because I missed you so much it hurt. But now you're here, and the thought of going back to Genoa City and-and everything that's there, all the drama, the people trying to keep us apart, the things we've lost…it's just terrifying. And I'm more than a little superstitious about the baby, okay? Everything's been great here, Billy. The baby's healthy, and I-I can't help but feel that something will go wrong if I go home."

He let her talk, let her say everything she needed to say, everything she had the courage to admit, his father's words about being there for her in the forefront of his mind the whole time, and then when she was finished and looked to him for a response, he simply smiled and said the only thing that made sense.

"Then we stay here."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion at his simplistic solution. "What do you mean? What does that mean, 'we stay here'?"

"I mean we stay here. You and me. In this apartment. In Florence. Until you're ready to go home."

"No," she said, shaking her head adamantly. "No, that's not fair, Billy. That's not fair to you. You have the magazine and Delia and-and your family. You can't just put your whole life on hold because of me, because of some silly superstition. You need to go home."

"'A,'" he said, beginning his rebuttal, "Phyllis can manage the magazine for a while. She owes me. 'B,' Deedee knows I'm going to be gone a little while longer, and you heard her last night. As long as she gets presents, she's good. Plus, we can talk and Skype everyday just like you do with Reed. And 'C'…" He took the still-warm mug away from her and sat it with his so he could bring both of her hands to his lips, placing a kiss on each of them as he stared into her expressive blue eyes. "And 'C,' _you_ are my family, and I am not letting you out of my sight ever again. I'm staying, Vick, and that's all there is to it."

"It's still not fair," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"Honey, there are a lot of things not fair about this, but us staying here? Doesn't even crack the top hundred. Nope. Not even close." Despite his lighthearted attempts, he could tell she still wasn't quite convinced, that she still felt guilty about inconveniencing him and especially about keeping him from Delia. "Look, we'll just take it a day at a time, okay?" he said a little more seriously, hoping that would erase her doubts. "Besides, it'll be fun. Just the two of us, snuggling up in this apartment, like a second honeymoon or something."

That earned him a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. "So you're really gonna live here with me?"

"I mean, yeah. That's okay, right?"

"Yeah, yeah of course it's okay," she said. "I have the place 'til the end of the month at least, but…"

"But what? I told you I'm staying, and if this place isn't available, we'll just find another. We can stay at a hotel. It's not a problem."

"No, no, it's not that." She bit her lip and pulled one of her hands from his, smoothing the free palm against his bare chest. "It's just…You don't like Florence, do you?"

She'd caught him. As hard as he had tried to hide his bias against this place she loved so much, to keep the frustration of his search from her, she had picked up on his true feelings anyway, and now there was nothing he could do but tell the truth.

"Weeeeell….except for last night and the whole finding you thing, it hasn't exactly been the greatest experience of my life," he admitted, and her face dropped just as he had expected it to. "But maybe we can change that? Hmm? Maybe you can show me around, show me what it is you love about this place?"

And just as quickly as her face had dropped, it lit up again in one of those smiles that made him feel like he'd won a gold medal. "You want me to show you around? Today? Right now?"

"Yeah. Sure. I mean, we should probably have breakfast first, and I need to go by the hotel and get some clean clothes and pick up my stuff. But after that, if you're up for it, you can show me around."

"I'm up for it. I'm definitely up for it. And breakfast is a must because we are starving," she laughed as she rubbed her stomach. "But, um, you don't really need to go by the hotel, not yet anyway. I still have your jacket from yesterday, and see, I sort of washed your clothes this morning. They're in the dryer right now, actually."

"You washed my clothes?" he asked, rubbing his face in disbelief. "Already? What time did you get up?"

"Hey, once the baby's up, I'm up," she defended herself through a fit of laughter. "Besides, I think that whole nesting thing has just completely taken over. I'm even more of a neat-freak now if you can believe that."

"Oh, man, maybe I should rethink that whole 'staying here' thing," he joked and immediately shielded himself from an impending attack.

But an attack was the last thing on her mind, all of her attention focused on him instead, specifically the way the covers rode low on his hips thanks to all the shifting and sitting up he had done to comfort her.

"Too late. You're all mine now," she said seductively, and while his hands covered his face, she made her move, rising to her knees as carefully as possible and then straddling the part of him still hidden from view. And he was all hers now, his body held prisoner beneath her, his attention captured by her obvious intent. "And um, since we have some time before your pants are dry, maybe you want to…I don't know…satisfy my appetite? If you're up for it, that is."

"Oh, baby, I'm up for it," he just managed to say as his hands sought the loose ties of her robe. "I'm definitely up for it."

* * *

By early afternoon, Billy was a near-expert on Florence. The streets no longer looked the same to him, and he could, in fact, now easily tell which buildings had been constructed during the Renaissance and which ones were marked with characteristics of medieval times. Not that he was really paying all that much attention to architectural details though. His focus was on Victoria, how her eyes sparkled in the sun, the feel of her hand in his, the way her other hand stayed protectively over her baby, their baby, and the frequent kisses neither of them could resist along the way. But despite his distractions, despite how lost he was in Victoria's company, her enthusiasm was contagious, and he listened and looked intently at each landmark she pointed out, doing his best to see Florence through her eyes.

And he could see how she had been drawn to this place. It fit her, and in many ways it was her. Classic with a touch of modern. Beautiful without flaunting it. Artsy without pretension. A perfect blend of culture and commerce, a place where you could both lose yourself and find yourself all in the same day. But as much as it was her, Billy knew it wasn't all she was. She was also Jamaica, untamed and impulsive. She was Tokyo, precise and exotic. And though she had run away from it, she was Genoa City. That was where her heart was, where her home was, and though she was undeniably comfortable in Italy and despite her fears, Billy also sensed she was homesick. She missed her mother, their house, Keely, all the people and places that made her feel safe and loved, and furthermore, Billy knew it was his job, his responsibility, to make things okay for her to return.

"Here it is," she said suddenly, pulling at his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts. "This is it. Michelangelo's_ David_. Well, not the real one, a replication. The real one's at the Accademia Gallery, which we passed earlier. Remember?"

She was talking a mile a minute, her excitement dictating her speed. They stood in an open piazza in front of a square building he remembered her calling the Palazzo Vecchio, the Old Palace, the town hall of Florence. It was a pre-Renaissance structure he could tell, made of stone, with an off-center tower extending high above the surrounding buildings, and outside its entrance was the statue Victoria was demanding he look at.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

"Um, it's a naked man, Vick. Not exactly my kind of art."

"Ugh," she scolded him and shook her head. "What are you, twelve? This is a masterpiece, Billy. This-this used to be a slab of marble. Now it's David, ready for his battle with Goliath. Look at how relaxed his body is, but how determined the expression on his face is. It's really extraordinary."

"All I see's a naked man," he shrugged, purposefully trying to get her riled up with his disinterest, because frankly, nothing was sexier than Victoria pissed off. "And if you wanted to see a naked man, a better looking, more-endowed naked man, I might add, then we could have just stayed in bed."

"You know," she began, narrowing her eyes at his suggestive ones, "you are so full of yourself. But I don't really see a statue of you around here anywhere. Why is that, I wonder?"

The plaza was crowded, and Billy pulled her close to answer her question, taking her hands in his, restraining them behind her back while he whispered in her ear. "Based on the way you attacked me this morning, I don't think Florence could handle it."

She blushed at the memory and then squealed when his mouth found that tender spot on her neck, and for a minute, she wished they had stayed in bed, that they were still in bed right now. Luckily for both of them, Billy remembered where they were and ended his assault with a kiss on the lips, and they settled into a loose embrace, her arms around his neck, his hands at the spot where her waist had rounded to accommodate their child.

"It's not my fault my hormones are out of control."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. I am definitely not complaining," he smiled. "So, what's next? Huh? There any of those naked chicks without arms you want to look at?"

"Actually, I was thinking lunch? I'm hungry again. And then maybe a stroll across the Ponte Vecchio? It's Florence's oldest bridge, you know, and the only one to survive World War II," she explained like an expert tour guide, but when he nodded his agreement, she pulled away from him and added, "But first, I need to, um, find a restroom. Just another perk of pregnancy."

Billy watched her walk away, laughing as she went, and though he was reluctant to let her out of his sight, he was okay with having a minute alone. There was something he had to do, something the last few minutes, the last few hours actually had inspired him to do. He found a quite spot by a fountain that Victoria probably knew the name of, and digging his phone from his pocket, he found the number he rarely had reason or desire to call and took two deep breaths as he prepared to face a Goliath of his own.

"Yes," came the gruff greeting after only one ring.

"Yeah, this is…uh, this is Billy. There's something important we need to discuss, but I need to make it quick."

"I take it you found my daughter?" the man on the other end of the line said in that calm, detached tone he used for everything, and Billy sighed and shook his head in disgust. Of course Victor had found out about his leaving town, that he had gone in search of Victoria. Jack had probably told Nikki to comfort her, and though he had probably sworn her to secrecy, Nikki had probably confided in Victor for the same reason. But it didn't matter, Billy thought as he struggled to shake off his anger. It couldn't matter, not now, not when he had to focus on making things right for Victoria.

"Yeah, I found my _wife_," he corrected, "but she doesn't want to come home. And that's because of you and me. We need to make a deal. It's life and death. It could be anyway." He was floundering, hurrying, trying to get the information out before Victoria returned. "See, there's something you don't know about Victoria, the reason she left."

"I'm aware of the child," Victor said, shocking Billy into momentary silence.

"You're here aren't you? You followed me."

There was no response, not that Billy needed verbal confirmation. He scanned the crowd for Victoria as well as for signs of his father-in-law's presence. It was a nice day, the first nice day they could actually enjoy together, and now there was a potential dark cloud threatening their happiness. Seeing neither of them and acutely aware that his time was running out, Billy turned his attention back to the stalled conversation and his task at hand.

"I know how you feel about me. Believe me, I know. But this is your daughter we're talking about, and you-you have to know what this baby means to her. Now, I promise I'll stay away from you, and I will do my best to be the husband she deserves. But you gotta agree too. We can't go at it. She can't have stress, and if you love her, if you love her like you say you do, then you'll just stay away."

"You are suggesting I stay away from my own daughter?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm asking you to do."

"Alright."

"Wait. What? You're serious?" Billy asked, stunned and unsure if he had actually heard him correctly. "You're going to stay away from Victoria? Even when she comes home?"

"Mm hmm," the older man grunted and then cleared his throat. "You take care of her, okay."

Billy heard it then, the rare slight crack of emotion in Victor's voice, but before he could respond, before he could assure his father-in-law that taking care of Victoria was his top priority, the call was ended, leaving him alone again in the piazza, staring at the statue of David, wondering if his battle with Goliath had been as easily won.

* * *

At a café across the piazza, shielded by umbrellas and patrons, Victor watched undiscovered as his son-in-law slipped his phone back into his pocket. It had taken guts for him to call, or tremendous love, neither of which the older man wanted to give Billy Abbott credit for. And although he had agreed to stay away from his daughter, he hadn't done it because Billy had asked.

The truth was he had made that decision all on his own just a few hours earlier when the private investigator he had hired to follow Billy had shown him photos of Victoria in a red dress and a man's jacket, leaving a hotel at dawn. She was pregnant, miraculously pregnant. He had seen that right away, and the last few months, her absence, began to make sense. But he knew from her history and based on the drastic measures she had taken that all was not well. So, he had hung around Florence a little longer, hiding in plain sight to get a look at her for himself, to make sure she was in good hands. Now, after the phone call, he knew she was, even if they weren't the hands he would have chosen.

Across the way, Victoria reappeared, sneaking up behind the man he had just spoken to. He watched them laugh together, hug, touch, kiss. Her smile was full and radiant, possibly from the pregnancy, probably from the company she was keeping. It had been a long time since Victor had seen that smile, even longer since he had been the cause of it, he thought as he remembered those stinging words she had hurled at him in May. She had disowned him, and rightly so, because somewhere along the way, he had forgotten what being a father meant and had taken her smile for granted for far too long.

But she was smiling now. She was happy and had another miraculous chance at being a mother. It didn't matter who the father was, and even if Victoria spent the rest of her life with that no-good son of a bitch, he would accept it, just as long as she kept smiling. And he would keep his word to Billy. He would stay away from her, even if it was his last act as her father, even if he would never know the grandchild she carried.

* * *

After lunch, after strolling by the jewelry shops that lined the Ponte Vecchio and at the first sign Victoria was overdoing it, Billy suggested they end the tour for the day, and after a quick stop so he could pick up his bag and settle things at the hotel, they returned to the apartment that would be their home for the foreseeable future. She put up little fuss when he ordered her to bed, and once he'd deposited his things in the closet, Billy joined her, taking a seat at her feet. From where she lay, Victoria watched him intently, studying his face and the loving way he took each of her feet, one at time in his hands, pressing his thumbs firmly into the arches, smoothing his hands up her calves, massaging the strain of their day from her body.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," she said quietly, suddenly aware of how damn lucky she was to have him back, to have him at all.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, a little surprised that she was still awake and more than a little affected by what she said. "That'll never happen, Vick. I promise."

She believed him, because she knew him, knew his heart and also because she knew she could say the same to him. She was never going to take him or his love for granted again, but there were things she wanted to know, and sleep wasn't as imminent as she had first believed.

"How did you find me?"

He didn't look up this time, but kept right on rubbing her feet. "I know you," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, and she knew he was trying to keep things light, to keep any ugliness or stress from her. But she needed to know and so asked the question again.

"I, um, looked for you right away," he began uneasily when he sensed she wasn't going to let it go. And then, after clearing his throat and with his hands still at work on her feet, he told her everything. He told her how Kevin had helped him that first night, how he had traced her phone to New Mexico and the week from hell that followed. He didn't hold back, even when he saw the tears form in her eyes, because he knew she would know the truth anyway. Then he told her how Nikki had comforted him, and how three months later, at his own mother's urging, he had finally listened to his gut and called Sam the day before their anniversary. Then there was the second search, the receipt, Dr. Lange, Adam, and Reed.

"I didn't know for sure you were in Italy," he admitted when he'd finished, "but I followed my gut. We're the same, you and me. We go back to what we know."

She felt sick and guilty as hell, but at the same time it was good to know about the missing parts of his life, the time she had chosen to be away from him. She remembered the receipt, how she had scribbled her appointment on it as he was getting stitches the day he hit her father. She had tried to be discreet even then, though she hadn't even thought about leaving yet. And she was glad her mother had been there for him, and that Jill and Reed and even Adam had helped him right her wrong. But there was one thing about the story that upset her the most, one thing she might regret for the rest of her life.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I'm so sorry about all of it and especially about…about letting you think I was with Sam. That was for my father mostly. I was desperate and I knew if he thought I was in New Mexico, he wouldn't come looking for me. I didn't want you to think—"

"No, I didn't," he stopped her, "not really anyway. Besides, it's over, Victoria. I forgave you, and I meant it."

But even as he said it, she saw a darkness come over his face, and he ended the massage abruptly. "Look, if there was-if there was someone else or something…I'll understand."

"No." He snapped his head up at her implication. "I only wanted you," he affirmed, "only you, but I, uh, I did something today, something I don't think you're going to like. I called your dad, and he knows about the baby."

Her instinct was to pull away, physically and emotionally, to jerk her foot out of his grip, to let him know how betrayed she felt with an iciness she had perfected over time. But she fought her instinct this time, knowing all too well what there was to lose. And he wasn't letting go of her anyway, maintaining their physical contact with a firm grip on her left ankle.

"Why? Why would you do that? After everything he did to you? To us? The Chelsea thing? You know I don't want anything to do with him. I haven't changed my mind about that, Billy."

"I know, okay?" he said, his voice calm but pleading. "I know he did a lot of terrible things to us, but he is your father."

"When did you become his cheerleader?" Her anger was rising despite her efforts to stay cool.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not. If I'm anyone's cheerleader, it's yours. I just thought that if we called a truce, you'd be more comfortable about going home. That you wouldn't have to worry about playing referee between the two of us."

"I knew it," she spat, and this time she did jerk her foot away from him. "I told you you could go home. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'll be fine."

Billy moved up the bed and reestablished physical contact by placing his hand on the curve of her hip and then leaned forward, forcing her eyes to lock with his. "And I told you that that isn't an option. I made a vow to never leave you again. Remember? Our wedding? And I'm not. This isn't about me, Victoria. We can stay here as long as you want, I don't care. Hell, we can even move here," he joked. Only he wasn't joking, and they both understood that. "I just want to do everything I can to make this easy for you. I know you love Florence. I saw that today, but I know you want to be home, too."

"I wish it was that simple, you and my Dad calling a truce," she said through new tears that Billy wiped away. She hadn't meant to get upset, but she felt like an uncontrollable roller coaster of emotions was coursing through her body. "But it's bigger than that, Billy. And I wish I could explain it to you, but I-I can't. I love this baby. And not just the idea of it, the idea of our child. It's not an idea anymore. It's real, and I have to do everything I can to protect it. Nothing I've ever done in the past has been enough. I want this time to be different. It has to be different."

"Let me help you," he pleaded, as pools of emotion formed in his eyes as well. "Let me be a part of this, Vick. I'm sorry for calling your Dad, but I just-I just want to make this better for you. I'm your husband, this baby's father. It's my job to take care of you, both of you. I want to rub your feet everyday and go on midnight cravings runs. I want to know everything about your pregnancy, about preeclampsia, your risks, what to look for, what to do if something happens. I need that, Vick. I need to be a part of this."

"Gelato," she said when she was able. "We like gelato. Any time of day. Any flavor." And the tension was finally broken with their laughter. "And I'll make an appointment with Dr. Rossi, first thing next week so you can get all the information you want, and you can rub my feet anytime. And Billy, I do need you, more than anything."

"We're in this together," he said, and she agreed.

Their pact was sealed with a kiss, and she rolled to her side, making room for Billy to join her, his chest to her back, his arms around her.

"Hey," he whispered after a few minutes of silence, when her breathing had slowed, but not enough to suggest she was asleep. "It's not too late you know?"

"To late for what?"

"To celebrate our anniversary. What do you say? Will you go out with me?"

"You're asking me on a date?" she laughed and turned her head to see his face.

"Yeah, why not? Unless you don't want to."

"Hmm. I'll have to think about it," she murmured, though she was lying. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do or anywhere she wouldn't go as long as he was with her. And if that was the only thing she learned from this, from leaving him, then maybe it was worth it after all.


	15. Chapter 15

_September 14, 2012_

It had only been three days since their reunion, two since their reconciliation, but in that short time, Billy and Victoria had already fallen back into the easiness of their relationship and they were quickly forming a comfortable routine in their agreed-upon hiatus from real life, this precarious suspension between a concrete past and an undetermined future. Mornings were lazy and spent exploring each other and Florence, while afternoons were quietly set aside for her to rest and for Billy to check in with the magazine. And evenings, they were about the kids, long Skype sessions with Reed and Delia and midnight dances with the one they had yet to meet.

Today they ended their morning exploring with a stroll down Via de' Tornabuoni, a sunny street lined with designer shops, because as Billy had pointed out to her as he got dressed this morning, he would need more than the handful of clothes he had packed if they would be staying for an extended period of time. It was another beautiful late summer, nearly fall day, the third in a row since the storm that first night they had spent together, and as they walked arm in arm, sunshine warming their faces, Victoria silently thanked Florence for showing out, for providing gorgeous weather that would hopefully make it easier for Billy to acclimate to their new existence.

"So, you never answered my question," she said, suddenly interrupting the quiet between them, and while she waited for him to respond, she took another spoonful of the gelato she held in the hand that was linked through his arm and brought it to her lips, savoring the cool creaminess on her tongue.

"Huh?" He shot her a quizzical look that told her he had no clue what she was talking about. "What question?"

"You know. The one about Florence? Whether or not you're liking it any better?"

"Oh," he laughed as he visibly recalled an earlier conversation. "That question. You mean the one you asked at least twenty minutes ago? Right before you and the night owl here decided you needed gelato 'now, now, now?'"

His imitation of her insistence caused her to laugh, while inwardly, a warmth spread through her body. She loved that he had taken to calling the baby by its nickname, loved that it created this intimacy between the three of them, because even though he was always touching her stomach and talking about the baby, she couldn't help but feel he was holding back, that he had yet to connect with their child. And maybe that was her fault, for depriving him of months of bonding time or maybe it was her paranoia that kept him from falling in love, like he didn't want to get too attached in case things didn't work out. She couldn't really blame him for that. It was a tightrope of emotion she continued to navigate as well.

"Yeah, that's the one," she said, and he made a funny, contorted face like he was giving her question serious thought.

"Well, I admit Florence has a few things going for it. You're here, and that makes anyplace at least a million times better," he smiled. "Plus, it has a good vibe. Cool people. Weather's good."

He wasn't smitten, not yet, but Victoria accepted his assessment as a victory anyway, with all the gloating of a Newman, and then rewarded him with a spoonful of gelato and a kiss. His lips were cold, his mouth tasted of raspberries, and what was meant to be a quick peck turned into an inappropriate display of affection right there in the middle of the street. But it was Italy, and the passersby paid them no mind except to admire the loving family tableau before them, just an average husband and wife expecting their first child together. No way could the strangers that passed know that they were witnessing a miracle, several miracles, in fact, just by looking at them.

"Hey," Billy said when they parted unembarrassed "you didn't answer my question either." And when her forehead rose in confusion, he added, "From yesterday? About an anniversary date?"

"Oh, that." They had stopped their walk for the kiss and remained unmoving now. Victoria stuck the plastic spoon in the dish of gelato again and swirled what was left on the bottom around in a circle. "You were serious about that?"

"Of course I was serious. Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well," she exhaled, "it's just, it's not even really our anniversary anymore. Thanks to me."

"Thanks to me, too," he said quickly. "And maybe it's not our _legal_ anniversary, but tell me you don't hear 'September 9,' and think about that day. That it's not special to you. To us. We've been through a lot this year, Vick, last year too, but we have things to celebrate. We found our way back again, and we have this one, this little miracle."

He was saying all the right things, things that were true, things she couldn't argue with even if she wanted to. But it was the mention of the baby that got to her, the baby and the thought that maybe he wasn't holding back after all, that he was already in love and fully expecting that everything would work out. She turned her eyes from his, hoping to hide her sudden panic from him, but then instantly wished she hadn't when they landed on the display window of the boutique they stood outside. It was full of baby things, little hats and shoes, sweaters, and hanging right in front of her was the tiniest, most delicate little dress she had ever seen. It was cream in color and all over it were silhouettes of birds in flight only a couple of shades darker than the dress itself.

"That's cute," she heard Billy say behind her. "You want to go in? Get it for our little bird?"

"No," she said sharply, much sharper than she intended. "No, I don't want to go in. I don't want to get it." She felt his hands on her shoulders, firm and comforting, and forced her eyes up to meet his in the reflection of the store window, an act that conjured memories of that night before she left him, when she almost confessed the pregnancy to his reflection in their bedroom mirror. "I'm sorry," she whispered and turned around, unwilling to let her fear push him away again. "But we don't even know what we're having. And I told you, I'm superstitious. I was with Reed, and the minute I let myself relax, the accident happened. I just can't, Billy."

"It's not fair," he breathed into her hair. "You should be able to enjoy this. All of this. We should be able to plan for the baby. Buy clothes if we want to."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, no. It's not your fault. I didn't mean that. None of this is your fault." He took her face in his hands and wiped away the beginnings of tears. "That's why I want to go out, Vick. We're going to the doctor on Monday. We can worry about all of the medical stuff then, but this weekend is ours. We deserve this time together. To have fun. You remember fun, don't you?" he teased, and she fought the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Come on. You know you want to. Just say 'yes.' I'll get on my knees if I have to. You want me to get on my knees right here in the middle of the street?"

"No! Stop it! Get up," Victoria said through gritted teeth when he didn't give her time to respond before lowering himself to the cobbled street. "People are staring."

"Just say 'yes and I'll get up."

"Okay, okay," she finally conceded, giving in to both his request and the smile she could no longer hold back. "Yes, I will go out with you."

"Good," he smiled as she pulled him upright again. "Now come on. You can help me pick out a new suit."

"A suit huh? That mean no arcade?"

"You want an arcade?" He brought his face incredibly close to hers, and when she responded with an indifferent shrug of her shoulders, he kissed her. His lips were warm now, but a hint of raspberry gelato lingered on his mouth. "Well, we'll see," he said as he pulled her by the hand. "We'll just have to see about that."

* * *

September 15, 2012

Billy used his reflection in the balcony doors to straighten his tie one last time. He was dressed and ready to go except for the jacket that lay across the back of the sofa, and picking it up, he slipped it on and patted his hand across his chest, making sure that the object he had placed in the interior pocket was still there. It was dark gray, the suit they had chosen yesterday, and giving himself a final once-over, admiring the fine tailoring of his new clothes, Billy turned the handle on the balcony doors and stepped out into the cool night air. He was as nervous as if it was their very first date, and in an effort to calm himself, he took a deep, relaxing breath. He wanted tonight to be perfect for Victoria, wanted to give her one night where she could let go of her fears for a while, to remind her why they had fallen in love in the first place and mostly, to reassure her that good times were still in store for them, no matter what lay over the horizon.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Victoria's voice floated out onto the balcony as smoothly and naturally as a bird in flight, and Billy tore his eyes from the illuminated Florentine skyline, reentering the apartment just as she crossed the threshold that separated the bedroom from the living room. The sight of her took his breath away. The dress she had chosen in secret, without his input, was a deep purple and form-fitting, hitting her at the knees, hugging her every curve, highlighting her baby bump proudly. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, perfect for exposing the smooth, beckoning skin of her bare shoulders.

"Wow. That's, uh, that's some dress," he stammered.

"Yeah? Well, I just barely got it zipped, so you can't grow anymore tonight, okay?" she said, directing her comment to her prominent belly before returning her attention to Billy. "You sure it's okay? It's kind of hard deciding what to wear when I don't even know where we're going."

Billy smiled at her thinly-veiled, snarky comment and walked towards her, taking her hands in his. She had tried to get him to let her make the plans, arguing that he knew nothing about Florence, but he wouldn't let her. And while she was correct about his limited knowledge of the city, he had a secret weapon she was unaware of.

"You look perfect. Beautiful. Sexy. Hot. And I thought maybe we would get something to eat and then…just see where the night takes us. Be spontaneous. You remember how to do that, don't you?"

"I can be spontaneous." She was defensive, but playful, a good start to the evening, Billy thought. "Just as long as you remember I'm in no condition to go drinking on a beach somewhere."

"Just trust me," he said and moved to pull her towards the door. But she stayed put, and he saw that the playfulness had melted from her face, replaced with a serious gaze.

"I do, Billy. I trust you with my life." Her sincerity caught him off guard, touched that part of him that never felt quite good enough, and they shared a knowing smile before she flashed a wider grin and pulled him towards the door instead, ready to embark on a spontaneous adventure.

* * *

It was basically a bar, Mario's uncle's place, and that was just fine with Billy. The young man who had helped him out so much his first day in Florence had gladly given him a list of upscale restaurants, ranging from traditional Tuscan fare to French to Indian, but it was the passing mention of this place that had caught Billy's attention. Dark, cozy, private, all the things he imagined for a special night with Victoria, and for a price and with a good word from Mario, it was all theirs for the evening.

"Wow," Victoria said as she looked around, taking in the ambience, the stony walls, the low, wooden beams overhead, the candlelit table for two. "Why am I not surprised that in all of Florence, you managed to find a place just like Jimmy's?"

"Hey, you like Jimmy's, and this place has great pizza. Plus, there's a dart board for a little fun while we wait for the food or…." Billy took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face the other side of the establishment, where two of the small square tables had been pushed together, each end featuring a triangle made out of yellow plastic cups.

"Billy," she chastised softly. "Beer pong? Really? How did you forget that I'm pregnant?"

"Uh, uh, uh, I didn't forget anything, woman." He left her side and walked to the surprise set-up, picked up one of the cups and took a drink, and when he returned it to the table, completing the triangle once again, a thin white mustache appeared above his upper lip.

"Milk?"

"Yep, this ain't beer pong, sweetheart," he grinned cockily. "It's milk pong."

She was trying not to show that she was impressed and touched that he had recreated one of their early, happy memories, but he knew he had done good anyway, because he was fluent in her body language, both the genuine and the ice princess façade.

"Well," she said when she finally joined him at the tables, showing her hand by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then another on his lips that erased the mustache, "it's a good thing you like milk, because I…am going…to kick…your butt."

And she did, handily. Billy forfeited after only his third glass of milk, and when he met a similar fate at darts, he announced it was time to eat because his ego couldn't take anymore games. Over real, Italian pizza, they talked. A lot. She told him more about Florence, and at her request, he filled her in on the gossip and news from Genoa City, further proving to him that she was indeed homesick. And then when he told her the story of Delia and the 'tattoo' from only a week ago, they both doubled over in laughter, holding their sides as Billy imitated his mother's freak-out.

"Oh gosh," Victoria said when she finally caught her breath. "I wish I could have seen that. I bet Chloe didn't think it was funny though, did she?"

Billy shook his head as he took a long drink from his glass of wine. "I wouldn't know. I left the country before she found out. She's Kevin's problem now."

"What?" Victoria asked when he grew suddenly quiet at the mention of Kevin. "Something going on with Chloe and Kevin? They're not having problems, are they?"

"No, no, not that I know of. It's just…" He cleared his throat and looked at her uncertainly, unsure if he should continue, if what he was about to confess would change the mood of the evening or not. "They know about the baby, Vick. Kevin figured it out, something about your phone or something. I don't know."

"Oh." She looked down at her lap, and Billy kicked himself for telling her. But when she looked up again seconds later, she was as apologetic as he was, maybe even more. "I forgot about that. The baby's heartbeat. It was on my phone. I played it for you once, that night before I left. While you were sleeping."

"You did?" He smiled and reached across the table for her hand, massaging away any lingering guilt she felt. "They promised not to tell anybody though, so we're good."

"I guess I can't really keep it a secret much longer anyway," she shrugged, "now that my Dad knows…"

"I don't think you have to worry about him, Victoria." And he truly believed that after the conversation he had with his father-in-law two days ago.

But she ignored his comment, and Billy didn't push. Talking about Victor was definitely not on the agenda for tonight, and sensing the mood had shifted anyway, Billy pulled his hand from hers and reached inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the small velvet bag hidden there.

"I, um, I have something for you."

"Billy. I thought we weren't going to do that?"

"Yeah," he said apologetically, "well I had some time to kill when you went to your yoga class this morning, and uh, I found this at one of those jewelry places we passed on the Ponte Vecchio the other day. It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

She took the bag from his hand with a smile, and he watched with baited breath as she opened it and emptied the contents into the palm of her hand, where the chain and medallion he had bought on a gut feeling formed a pool of silver.

"It's pretty," she said, turning the tiny, dime-sized medallion over, running her fingers across the man's image on its face. "What is it?"

"It's, uh, a St. Gerard medal. The guy I got from said it would protect you and the baby, keep you safe. I know you're superstitious, but I thought… "

"I love it," she said, filling the silence his unfinished thought created, and he could tell by her glistening eyes that she meant it. She held it out to him, and reading her meaning, he took it and stood, moving behind her so he could help her put it on.

"So, were you serious about that spontaneous thing?" she asked when the medallion fell cold against her chest and Billy's lips fell warm against her shoulder. "Or do you have something else planned?"

"We can do anything you want."

"Good," she smiled and cast her eyes to where his chin now rested on her shoulder. "Because I have something for you, too. But it's not here. So, come on."

* * *

The building she took him to was only a few blocks from the apartment and the Piazza San Marco. They climbed four flights of stairs, an exertion that made Billy concerned for Victoria, but she took them two at a time in heels, reaching the large double doors before he did. And when she reached above the doorframe and retrieved a key, he knew it was a place she visited often.

As soon as the door yielded to the key, Victoria stood aside and silently motioned for Billy to enter the dark room, which he did curiously. A tiny bit of moonlight shone through large windows, but not enough to tell him where he was, and the smell that greeted him was neither entirely foreign nor familiar. Behind him he heard Victoria exhale, and then the room was flooded with light, revealing a large, open space with white walls and high ceilings. There were canvases everywhere, some colorful and hanging on the walls, others blank in anticipation, including a huge one that took up nearly the entire wall straight in front of him. Shelves of supplies lined another wall, and a large, antique sofa sat in the middle of the room.

"It's my studio," Victoria explained when he turned to her, eyebrows narrowed in a questioning look. "Well, not mine exactly. It belongs to a friend. But he's been traveling all summer, so I've sort of had it to myself."

"He?"

"Yes, he," she said, catching the touch of jealousy in his voice. "His name's Emilio, and he doesn't 'play for your team,' so back down."

"Ah, okay." Satisfied and relieved by her explanation, Billy turned back around, letting his eyes take in the displayed artwork. "Well, I guess that explains all the um, all the male nudes."

"Oh, those are mine," she deadpanned, and he spun back around with the priceless look she had intended painted across his face. But when he charged at her playfully, she shrieked, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. They're not mine. Mine are over there."

He followed her to the windows, to the place she pointed to, and when she handed him a small square canvas, he took it gingerly from her nervous hands, completely aware that what she was giving him was more than an anniversary gift; it was a piece of herself. And when he looked at what he held, at the soft colors and lines, he saw that it was a part of him as well. It was Delia, asleep against his chest, a moment he remembered Victoria capturing in time months ago with her phone, and now she had recreated it for him.

"It's not very good, but I thought you might like it," she said in a near repeat of his words from earlier.

"You did this?" And when she nodded her head, he looked at it again, smiling and in awe. "It's better than good, Vick. It's beautiful. I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she whispered just as he planted a kiss on her mouth, and when he nodded towards the other canvases leaning against the same wall, she granted him permission to look at them as well. They were more colorful and abstract than the one of Delia, but he knew right away what they were.

"Jamaica?" he asked, holding up the first, a mix of greens and blues that reminded him of lying in a hammock, and when she smiled he held up the second, sand and sky from a Ferris Wheel. "Santa Monica?"

"I finally learned to paint a landscape without a horizon." And if he hadn't been sure before, he was certain now that their time apart, though of her own doing, her own choices, was just as painful for her as it was for him. But instead of drowning in a bottle for a week and without work and a child to throw herself into, Victoria had survived by painting, holding onto hope that she hadn't torn them apart.

"Teach me," he said suddenly, taking them both by surprise.

"What?"

"You heard me. Teach me. I taught you how to surf. I want you to teach me how to paint. Right now. Tonight."

"No," she said, backing away. "I can't. Besides, you just bought that suit, and-and it was expensive. No way am I letting you ruin it."

"This suit the only thing standing in my way of an art lesson?" He had taken her retort as a challenge, becoming instantly mischievous, determined to make this night fun and unforgettable, and when she said nothing, but simply stood there frozen, trying to figure out what he was getting at, Billy let his jacket slip from his shoulders. Her jaw dropped as his intentions became clearer, as he removed each piece of clothing, down to his black boxer-briefs, in a strip tease and then grabbed a paintbrush and headed for the huge canvas against the back wall. "Come on. I thought we were going to be spontaneous. You chicken?"

"I'm not…chicken," she responded unconvincingly.

He could see her overactive brain at work, trying to talk herself out of it, but he had appealed to her fun side, thrown her a dare, and in the end, she accepted it. He saw the moment she decided in her eyes, a split second before she kicked her shoes off, a full minute before she reached behind her for the zipper on her dress and shimmied out of it, leaving her in nothing but the revealing strapless bra and panties she had bought special for the night and the St Gerard medal shining above her cleavage, fuller than usual thanks to the pregnancy.

"But you can't use that canvas," she said, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks as she struggled with what to do with her hands. "It's Emilio's."

"I'll buy him another." Billy couldn't take his eyes off of her, standing there in that big, empty room, practically naked, and part of him wondered if this had been such a good idea after all. "So, uh, where do we start? Am I holding this thing right?"

She closed the distance between them, and seeing the effect she was having on him, took back some of the control. "There's no right way to hold it. It just depends on what you're trying to accomplish." She grabbed the end of the brush in his hand and pulled it until his fingers nearly touched the bristles. "If you hold it close like this, real tight, your strokes will be precise and intense." Her voice was purposefully seductive and suggestive, and when she grabbed the end of the paintbrush again, pushing it slowly all the way back through his grip, he gasped audibly. "And if you hold it like this, your strokes are looser and wilder."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked in a voice that matched her suggestiveness.

"Oh, me? I like both."

"I know you do," he smiled under his breath as he exchanged the paintbrush for a tube of red paint and squirted a huge dollop into his hand. "But what if you don't want to use a paintbrush? What if you'd rather use, I don't know, your hands instead?"

"William," she warned, reading the look in his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

But her warning fell on deaf ears, and before she knew it, he had smeared the paint evenly across both hands and backed her against the blank canvas that was bigger than both of them. Placing one red hand on either side of her head, Billy lowered his lips to hers and practiced the strokes she had taught him on her mouth, alternating between precise and intense and loose and wild. He was hungry, and so was she, but he ended it far too quickly, and just when she thought she was safe, still lovedrunk from the kiss he placed his hands possessively on her belly, leaving behind two red handprints lighter than the ones on the canvas.

"Oh," she gasped, looking down at what he had done so proudly, "now you're gonna get it."

It was an official paint war then as they each grabbed for tubes of paint, smearing it on each other, creating colors never before seen, splashing it onto the canvas, using their hands and bodies as paintbrushes, stealing kisses in between. And it was fun, the most fun either of them had had in a really long time, and when they were finished, when they were exhausted and out of paint, they collapsed onto the antique sofa in the middle of the room to admire their work.

"That looks like something a kindergartener would do," Billy said as he picked at some dry paint on her thigh.

"You know, Picasso said it took him a lifetime to learn to paint like a child."

"Well, we learned how in a couple of hours, so I guess we're a little more advanced than old Pablo, huh?"

"It's beautiful," she murmured, and he could tell she had something deeper on her mind.

"It's a masterpiece," he agreed and kissed her, and just like that she was back from wherever her mind had taken her. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"I had the best time. In fact, there's only one more thing I can thing of that would make this night perfect."

* * *

They walked the short distance to the apartment still covered in dry paint, something Victoria Newman would have never done, but something Victoria Abbott did happily. And when they stumbled into the apartment, drunk on laughter from the strange looks they had received along the way, Billy led her straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. For once, she was unapologetic about being a princess, glad that she would only stay in places with modern bathrooms and showers built for two.

As steam filled the room, they undressed for the second time tonight, this time completely and more hurriedly, taking no time to separate their paint-covered garments from the rest. The water was scalding, but felt good against her skin, and there were no kid gloves as Billy took it upon himself to wash her body free of paint. He was rough and demanding, no longer afraid of hurting her, and after three long months of raging hormones that went unfulfilled, she couldn't have been happier. They made love recklessly, feverishly, full of passion and physical need, like those first daring months of their relationship. There was no fear, no worries, no thoughts of what was to come. And no clue that in only a couple of hours, all the admirable promises they had made in the last few days would be tested, all of their fears confronted.


	16. Chapter 16

There are two more chapters after this one. I'll try to post them tomorrow. Enjoy!

_September 16, 2012_

"Billy."

The harsh whisper of his name seeped into his dreams, slowly tugging him from visions of red paint, steam, and silky flesh, but when the sound was repeated seconds later, more insistent than before and accompanied by a shove to his ribs, Billy surfaced into consciousness like a drowning man, panicked and disoriented. He could make out Victoria's silhouette leaning over him, her hair wavy and wild from where it had air dried after the shower, and behind her the clock on the nightstand flashed 3:17, marking the hour he sensed their lives would change forever.

"What is it? What's wrong? Did you have the dream again?" he asked in a whisper that matched hers. It was wishful thinking on his part, dim hope that the reason she had woken him in the middle of the night was something he could handle with reassuring words and his arms wrapped around her, but a slow shake of her head confirmed what he already feared.

"I have a headache. It-it won't go away."

The room seemed to grow colder in an instant as his mind flashed to the pamphlet Dr. Rossi had thrust into his hands just a few days ago. He had read it cover to cover, memorizing every word in preparation for the doctor's visit on Monday. Headache, persistent headache, it was a symptom of preeclampsia, a sign that her blood pressure was elevated. The doctor had warned it could happen fast, but still, this seemed unfairly soon and sudden.

"Your blood pressure?" he asked as he forced himself into a sitting position, using every bit of his strength to stay calm and rational, to prevent his mind from wandering further into the pamphlet to the list of worst-case scenarios, the ones that could cost him Victoria, their child, or both.

"I checked it." It was something she did everyday he had learned, twice a day usually, with a digital machine Dr. Rossi had given her. "It was normal, but…"

But it could have been a false reading he silently finished for her. Or the machine could be broken, or any number of other explanations. "Are you in pain?"

"Some. Here," she said, and he watched the shadow of her hand move low on her belly. "It's not that bad, but, um, the baby…it hasn't moved in a while, Billy."

He was numb, shell-shocked, felt as though he was trapped in a bad dream of his own, and he could only imagine how Victoria was feeling. They were both calm, too calm, each for the sake of the other, but he didn't need to see her face to know she was terrified. He felt it in the calculated tone of her voice and the shaky hand that still clutched his torso.

"We should, uh, we should go to the hospital," he managed to say, and when she didn't argue, only nodded her head in agreement, Billy swung his legs over the side of the bed and illuminated the room with the quick flip of a switch. That's when he saw Victoria was already dressed and ready to go, probably had called ahead to the hospital even, and for a second, he wondered if she had considered leaving again, handling this on her own without waking him, without giving him the chance to fail her again. But he only stayed on that train of thought for a moment before his eyes caught sight of something sparkling around her neck. His own throat closed up as he remembered the St. Gerard medal he had given her hours earlier, promising that it would protect both her and the baby. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when they were laughing and happy, and now…now he would give anything to go back, to rewind the day, to never have placed that piece of jewelry around her neck.

* * *

To say he hated hospitals was an understatement. He loathed them. They were his own special brand of hell, perfumed with that putrid mix of disease and disinfectant, a place where nothing good ever happened. And tonight Billy was fast learning that the only thing worse than a hospital was one in a foreign country, where he couldn't understand a word spoken by the nurses who poked and prodded the woman he loved more than anything.

They tried to make him leave, to wait outside, but 'no' was universally understood and the force with which he said it persuasive. So he was allowed to stay, gripping Victoria's hand until he was in the way and had to move, but even then he stayed connected to her, holding her foot when no other body part was available, keeping his eyes locked with hers at all times. He tried to read her face, to see if she knew anything, but all he got was that she was as much in the dark as he was, leaving him to piece together the information he did have on his own. There was a cure for preeclampsia, he remembered Dr. Rossi saying. Delivery of the baby would cure Victoria, but what did that mean for the child he loved but hardly knew? Reed had been premature, and now he was a strong and healthy little boy, but that wasn't the case for all preemies.

Like Eve.

That day at the café, when Victoria had told him about the daughter she had lost long before them, she had said Eve was born too soon. But what was too soon? He couldn't even remember how far along she was this time, couldn't even think if Dr. Rossi had mentioned her due date during that first doctor's visit when he had been so in shock he hadn't been able to absorb anything other than the fact that Victoria was pregnant. Billy could feel anger building inside him, at himself for being so selfish then and so powerless now and at the universe for even allowing this to happen. His instinct was to bolt, to find the nearest chapel and curse God for doing this to her again. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. They needed each other now more than ever.

Then just as quickly as the nurses had descended upon them, they disappeared, leaving Billy and Victoria alone again. He sighed in relief when the door closed behind the last one, who in a thick accent said Dr. Rossi would be in soon, and from his spot at the end of the bed, he assessed the damage that had been done, all the machines that surrounded Victoria, the tubes and wires that connected her to them, the straps across her stomach that monitored the 'thump, thump, thump' of the baby's heart.

"Hey," he said softly and reclaimed his spot beside her. She seemed tranquil, focused on breathing, her hand busy rubbing circles across her belly, while the other, much to his annoyance, clasped the St. Gerard medallion tightly. "You want me to call your mom?"

"I'm sorry," she said, startled out of her intense concentration. "I know you hate this. Hospitals."

"No, no, no, no, no." He took her hand, the one holding the necklace, in his own. "That's not why I asked. I'm not bailing, Vick. I just thought you might need her, want to talk to her anyway."

She shook her head and smiled faintly, a sign he took to mean she was glad he was there and that he was staying. "There's nothing she can do but worry. Nothing any of us can do."

"Well, is there anything I can get you? I feel kind of useless."

"No. This is good." She gestured to the spot where their hands lay together and opened hers so their fingers could intertwine. They sat that way in silence, waiting for the doctor, until he heard her voice again, shaky but determined. "Actually…there is something I need from you. Something I need you to promise me."

He saw the look in her eyes, read her intent, knew immediately what she was going to ask of him. "Vick…I can't. Please don't…we don't even know what the doctor's gonna say."

"Promise me," she pleaded, her eyes glistening with tears as she broached the subject neither of them wanted to acknowledge. "I didn't get a say last time, Billy. With Reed. I didn't get a say. My family went to court to decide which one of us lived, and I'm telling you right now that I want everything done to protect the baby. If something happens, I need you to be my voice. Please. Promise me."

"I can't," he said as tears flowed freely from both of their eyes. "I can't lose you. I just got you back."

"Yes, you can. Because you love me, and you know it's what I want."

"We're supposed to go together, like Thelma and Louise."

"Yeah?" She removed her hand from his and brought it up to rest on his cheek, wiping the tears as they flowed, like he had done to her many times before. "Well nothing's really turned out the way we planned, has it? So, promise me you'll take care of the baby?"

He couldn't answer her. It was an impossible position to be put in, yet he knew if the situation was reversed, he would ask the same of her and expect her to choose their child's life over his own. Luckily, he didn't have to answer, not yet anyway. He was saved by the door, the gentle knocking that was followed by Dr. Rossi, come to deliver the verdict.

"Hello, Victoria, Billy." She was just as cheerful as when she had greeted them the last time, and Billy wondered if it was a good sign or if she was simply trying to soften the blow that was coming. "So, our little night owl's causing some trouble, I hear. Let's see what's going on."

While the doctor studied the monitors and Victoria's chart, asking a series of questions as she did, Billy pulled himself together, covertly wiping the evidence of his emotions from his face, putting Victoria's request out of his mind for the time being, and when Dr. Rossi moved to examine Victoria, she signaled with her hand for him to stay beside his wife. Their renewed closeness wasn't lost on her, and the older woman shot Billy an approving look as she pressed on Victoria's stomach. He braced himself when she removed the fetal monitor, expecting bad news to come any second, but instead she pulled the ultrasound machine from the corner of the room, saying the best way to know what was going on was to go straight to the source.

Billy gripped Victoria's hand tight as Dr. Rossi squirted gel onto her stomach, and she returned his grip just as tightly as she turned her face up to the ceiling, refusing as usual to look until it was safe. Within seconds, there was an image to go along with the heartbeat that, until just a few minutes ago, had been the soundtrack to this experience.

"Well," Dr. Rossi smiled as they all three took in the sight before them, their baby with its eyes closed, two of its tiny fingers in its mouth. "I guess you finally wore this one out."

"So, the baby's okay?" Billy heard Victoria ask, her question bringing him back to the situation at hand.

"Just sleeping."

"And Victoria?" Billy asked.

"Victoria, in my professional opinion…has a headache. Which could be from stress or something you ate or even the onset of a cold."

It didn't register for a minute, her diagnosis, but when it did, Billy laughed in relief, all of the fear and dread draining from his body. She was okay. The baby was okay. There was nothing else to worry about tonight.

"Your blood pressure is better than ever," the doctor continued and flashed a telling smile at Victoria. "I told you sex was a good stress reliever."

"What about the pain in my stomach?" Victoria asked without acknowledging the good-natured remark.

"It's fairly common for this stage of pregnancy. See how the baby has turned head down in preparation for delivery. It's putting pressure on your pelvis. That, plus the continuing expansion of your uterus probably caused the pain. It can be scary, I know, especially since in many ways, this is like a first pregnancy for you."

Both Billy and Dr. Rossi studied Victoria's face as she processed the information, but it didn't seem to calm her. The fear and concern was still there, as well as a refusal to believe that everything was indeed okay.

"Look, Victoria, you're 28 weeks pregnant," the doctor said, and Billy made a special note to remember that. "You're still at risk for preeclampsia, and you were absolutely right to come in tonight. And I know how concerned you are, given your history and your son's premature birth. But you're in the homestretch, and babies born at this stage have a greater than ninety percent chance of survival. We just have to keep doing what we're doing, to keep the baby in as long as possible, okay?"

Victoria nodded, but Billy saw that her face still didn't relax and neither did her hold on his hand. Dr. Rossi stayed a few minutes longer, answering the questions Billy had saved up for Monday and informed them she was keeping Victoria for a few hours more just to be safe. When she left the room, Billy stood and moved closer to Victoria, kissing her gently on the forehead.

"You're okay," he whispered. "The baby's okay. It's all good."

"No, it's not," she snapped and pulled away from his touch, a move that both stung and puzzled him. "It's not good enough, Billy. It's not good enough if the baby has to be in the hospital for weeks, hooked up to machines so it can breathe, a tube so it can eat. That's how it was for Reed, and I wasn't even there for it. I wasn't there for him. I wasn't there to take care of him and tell him it would be okay. Ninety percent is not good enough. It's just not. I want a hundred."

"Nobody gets that, Vick. Nobody."

She scoffed at him and his placating response, her fear starting to morph into rage. "It doesn't matter anyway. It doesn't matter what I do, how careful I am, what I give up. I'm just not meant to be a mother, and I really don't know why I thought this time would be any different."

"Stop it," he said, stepping back in confusion and anger of his own. "Don't say that. This time _is_ different, and no one, no one deserves to be a mother more than you."

"Oh, yeah? Then why have I lost every child I've ever had?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, unprepared for this sudden shift in her mood and the conversation. "But I know there's nothing you did to deserve it, Victoria."

All of his attempts to calm her, to reassure her, were falling flat, and this time was no different. She laughed contemptuously in response, running an angry, defiant hand through her messy hair before narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not perfect, Billy. And I know you like to think you have the market cornered on bad behavior, but I'm not perfect either. Ashley ever tell you how I treated her when she was with my father? The names I called her? I was horrible."

"You were a kid, Vick. The grownups were responsible for that situation."

"Well, I kept it up even when I was old enough to know better. And I've broken promises, been unfaithful. I've been ruthless and done things I'm ashamed of. I bribed a Japanese official, for God sakes." Her anger, which he clearly saw was masking something deeper, had hit its peak. She was crying, even as she yelled, and Billy kept a watchful eye on the machines she was still attached to, looking for changes that would indicate cause for concern. He wanted to tell her to calm down, to remind her she was still in danger, but at the same time, she needed this release.

"And I was happy," she said and turned her eyes from his as the tears came faster. Her voice was quieter, and he could tell something had broken in her. "That night at the hospital. When Adam came. Part of me was happy Chelsea's baby wasn't yours. Not because I didn't love him or want him because I did, Billy. I did. More than anything. But it meant she hadn't done that to you, that she hadn't hurt you because of me. Because of who my father is. And it meant we wouldn't have to go to court and look over our shoulders the rest of our lives, just waiting for her to come claim him, because you know she would have. And then I just felt so bad for feeling that way, because it meant you would never have another child either. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

All he could do was stand there and watch her, watch guilt eat away at her. It was different and clarifying being on this side of that dark, destructive emotion. He marveled at the honesty of her confession, that she was able to admit the things they should have said to each other months ago, but didn't, out of shame or maybe to protect the other from hurt.

"Then maybe it's my fault too," he finally said, and she turned her eyes back to him, ready to argue, but he didn't give her the chance. "I never wanted to be a father. That's right. Before Dee Dee, even after she was born, I didn't want to be a father. I didn't want anything that would get in the way of me having a good time. So maybe that's why we haven't had a baby, maybe that's why we're here tonight. Or maybe it's because I'm not good enough for you. Or because I bought a baby. Or because I gave you that thing around your neck, even after you told me, more than once, that you're superstitious. I didn't listen to you. I just thought I knew better, so here…"

He reached for the necklace, threatening to take it back, but she quickly stopped him, placing her hands on top of his. "No! This isn't because you gave me a present. That's stupid, Billy. It's not because of anything you've done."

"Yeah," he smiled as he saw the light bulb go on in her head, as she surrendered to what he was getting at, what he had just figured out for himself as well. "It's pretty stupid, huh? Let's face it, Vick, I don't think either of us is that powerful or that special for the universe to go out of its way to punish us for things we have no control over."

"I know it's me, Billy," she whispered as he brought his forehead to rest against hers. Her breath was shaky and cold. "I know it's this fear inside me, this thing I haven't been able to shake for years. It's the reason I left, the reason I panicked. And I know I have to make peace with it, for the baby, for myself, for you, but…I just don't know how."

"It's okay." He sat on the small empty spot on the bed and pulled her to him. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere, and we can stay here in Italy as long as you want, as long as you need to."

And he meant it, because now he understood fully her reason for not wanting to go home, and as they lay there together, in that hospital bed, after facing one of the toughest nights of their lives, a sense of peace fell over him instead. And he knew, he simply knew that eventually it would happen for her too.

* * *

Victoria was released by early afternoon, both she and the baby given a clean bill of health, and Billy, on doctor's orders, was placed in charge of making sure she rest more and worry less. She was listening to him during the cab ride back to the apartment tell her about all the things he was going to do to pamper her the rest of the day, the massages, the scoops of gelato, the episodes of _Father Knows Best_, when he suddenly ordered the cab driver to stop. She peered over him to see what was so urgent as he paid the driver and then helped her out of the car in front of a church she had passed a thousand times but had never entered.

It definitely wasn't the biggest church in Florence, nor the oldest, nor the most ornate, but when they entered it at Billy's request, she felt there was something special about it. The smell of incense was strong, probably from morning mass, and as Billy led her by the hand down the aisle to the front, she studied the works of art that lined the walls of the empty sanctuary.

"This is where I came the other day," he said quietly once they had settled into the hardness of the very first pew, "after the doctor's appointment, before…."

"Before you forgave me?" she asked, and he confirmed her guess with a single nod. She looked around, at the wooden beams above, the flickering candles in front of her and imagined him sitting there that day, all the things going through his head, the shock, the hurt, the things she had told him about her past. But why had he insisted they come here today?

"I, uh, I found peace here that day," he said, as if reading her mind.

"And you thought I could do the same?"

"I thought we could do the same."

Silence fell between them, a slightly uncomfortable silence as memories of last night infiltrated the space. It had been intense, an amalgam of emotions, from the fear that had first gripped her as he lay sleeping after one of the best nights of her life to the sadness and anger that came later. But ultimately, it had been a blessing. She felt that with every part of her being, because now they were closer than ever, neither unable to confess anything to the other, the way it should have been from the start.

"I talk to my dad," Billy said, once again seeming to reading her mind, once again interrupting the quiet. "Here. And back home."

She studied his face, the one so often full of cockiness, and the shy boyishness she found there instead was endearing, and the fact that he was sharing something so personal was not lost on her. "I know."

"Yeah, but did you know he talks back?"

"Yeah? What does he say?" she smiled, and he smiled back, clearly grateful at how she was responding to his confession.

"Mostly he kicks my butt, reminds me how lucky I am. And this last time, he, uh, he told me I should forgive you."

"I guess I owe him one." She eased back into Billy, resting her head against his shoulder, hypnotized by the dozens of flickering flames that each represented a separate prayer and let the holiness of the place sink into her. It reminded her in a way, with all the candles serving as light, of their last wedding at Christmas, the third in a series of spontaneous exchanges of vows. "You ever think we got married too fast?" she asked almost without thinking.

"Which time?" he joked, but when she didn't respond, he gave a more serious answer. "It was fast. Probably too fast for some people. You think it was too fast?"

"Nope," she said confidently, "I meant it. Every time. Even Jamaica. I think the rum gave me courage." She turned her head so she could see him and the relief that her answer brought to his face. "But maybe there were things I should have told you. About Eve, about my history."

"It wouldn't have changed anything, not how I feel about you."

"Yeah, but it would have given you a chance to change your mind."

"Uh-uh." He shook his head and pulled her closer. "The only thing that knowing about Eve would have changed is… I wouldn't have bought Lucy. I wouldn't have risked you losing another daughter."

She saw his guilt and regret threaten again, and for a minute wished she hadn't said started the conversation. But he didn't give into it, and she was proud of both of them. "Then I'm glad I didn't tell you, because I don't regret a single minute that we had Lucy, loving her, being her mom, watching you be the father of my child."

He ducked his head and shifted beneath her, a combination that told her he was uncomfortable with what she had said, with the growing level of his emotions, but she wasn't about to let him off the hook without saying what she needed to, what she should have said long ago. Placing her hand on his chin, she turned his face back up and forced him to look her in the eyes.

"You're a good man, Billy Abbott." And when he tried to turn away, she held him tighter. "A good man. The way you love your daughter? The way you love me? That's not everyday. Do you know how many men have loved me just because of who my father is, what they thought they could get by being Victor Newman's son-in-law. Or because of who they thought they could change me into? But you didn't do that. You loved me despite who my father is. You loved me flaws and all, and I can never repay you for that. And this baby…" She moved his hand and hers onto her stomach. "This baby is so lucky to have you for its father."

"Thank you," he said as a tear escaped both their eyes. "Thank you for taking care of my child, for keeping it safe. For being a good mother."

All she could do was nod as he continued holding both her and their child. And then, in an ancient church, thousands of miles from home, hundreds of days since that first time they pledged their love and loyalty to each other, Billy and Victoria did something they had never done before. They prayed. Together. Openly. Honestly. Without pretense or inhibition. Without pride or demands. They thanked God for their children and their families, for the miracle they were witnessing, for keeping Victoria and the baby safe last night and for the last few months. Then they asked God to continue looking out for them, for a safe delivery, a healthy baby, and the strength and courage to endure whatever the future holds for them.

* * *

It was the same as last time, the same as all the nights before. Victoria stood in a room full of bassinettes, the soft cry of an infant somewhere in the distance. But something about this time, something she couldn't quite name, was glaringly different. As she made the compulsory walk among the cribs, she didn't panic, didn't rush, knowing they would all be empty until she came to the last one. And when she reached it, this time she could clearly read the name scrawled on the outside. Baby Abbott. A tightness formed in her chest. Hope or fear, she wasn't sure of the cause, but when at last she faced her demons and peered over the side of the bassinette, she saw her child. She saw it clearly, ten fingers, ten toes, a set of lungs an opera singer would be jealous of.

And then, a pair of weathered hands appeared, threatening to rob her of her joy as they had done last time. Only they didn't. They simply soothed the baby, lulling it back to sleep, ending its crying. Victoria quickly forced her eyes up in an attempt to see the owner of the mystery hands before she woke up, and what she saw, the face she saw, surprised her.

She woke in a start, but not the terror of last time or of last night. Beside her, Billy continued to sleep, unaware and exhausted from the last twenty-four hours. She lay back down, drawing close to him, to his warmth, as she pieced together the bits of the dream she could remember. It seemed so real, felt so real, and maybe it was. Maybe someone was watching over her baby this time, and maybe, just maybe it was all going to be okay.


	17. Chapter 17

September 17, 2012

The next morning, the sky over Florence was slightly overcast, just enough wispy clouds to block the brilliant sunlight they had been treated to over the last few days, but oddly enough, things… life…the future, none of them had ever seemed clearer to Victoria than on this last Monday of the summer. She took another careful sip of tea from her steaming mug and continued to stare out the bedroom window as the last twenty-four hours replayed in her head. Yesterday had been a revelation, from that first terrifying moment when she woke in pain after a night they would blush about into old age to her outburst at the hospital and then finally the church where she and Billy had shared something deep and sacred, something that had bound their souls together more completely than reciting vows or sharing a child could ever do.

And then there was the dream, the same one that had woken her in terror many nights over the last three months, shaking, crying, drowning in the realness of it. But not last night. She smiled into her mug at the recollection of the images she had forcibly tattooed on her brain in the wee hours of the morning, determined not to forget them in a semiconscious fog. It had seemed so real, felt so real, that wriggling pink baby, her baby, and then that face she had recognized immediately, protectively watching over their child. The church had indeed brought her peace, at least an outlet for her worries, but she credited the dream for the lightness, the freeness of her spirit this cloudy morning.

Billy was still asleep behind her in the bed that hadn't felt strange in almost a week now. His body was stretched out in nearly the same position as when she had first crept out of bed hours ago, reminding her how deep of a sleeper he was. It was something she had often envied about him, especially lately given how difficult getting a good night's rest was for her since entering the third trimester. But today, she didn't envy his sleeping, and in fact, wanted him to wake up. There were things she needed to tell him, important things, life-changing things, but first, there was something she wanted to do for him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she placed her mug of tea on the nightstand and then let her free hands hover over her husband's chest, recalling from memory every muscle she had memorized that night so long ago when her current situation, the place, the feelings, the hope had all still seemed so far out of the realm of possibility.

"Hey," she whispered softly, leaning as close to his ear as her belly would allow, finally placing her hands on his firm torso for support. "It's time to get up."

Despite the gentleness of her tone and touch, he reacted just as she had feared, bolting upright in a panic just as he had done the night before. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it the baby? Are you in pain?" he panted and physically searched her body for signs of distress.

"Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing." she soothed. "I'm fine. The baby's fine." And when she saw his face relax and that his breathing had returned to normal, she cocked her head and smiled mischievously. "But we're going to miss our train if you don't get up now."

"Our what?"

"Our train," she repeated and pulled the covers off his body before he had time to process the two simple syllables. "Now come on. Get up."

He remained where he was, still half-asleep, still in a state of confusion as to what she was talking about. His hair was a mess, and she couldn't help but laugh at the scrunched up look on his face as he attempted to get his bearings.

"Where are we going? I mean…I don't think it's a good idea, after yesterday and everything. You're supposed to relax and—"

Sensing an argument she wanted no part in and with no time to waste, Victoria smothered his face in quick kisses to shut him up. "Relaxing is what I plan on doing, okay?" she said when her tactic paid off. "And for your information, I already cleared this with Dr. Rossi. She actually thinks it's a good idea, so get up. Everything's taken care of. All you have to do is get dressed. You have ten minutes."

He knew better than to argue with that stubborn look on her face, and more importantly, he sensed she was being honest with him, that she was okay, that she did intend to relax wherever it was she was dragging him off to, be it a daytrip to Rome or Venice or some other city full of art and history. She was always beautiful in the morning, but today, there was something special about her, maybe the glow of pregnancy or simple relief that yesterday had ended as uneventfully as it had. Whatever it was, he didn't care. It was just good to see her smiling and happy.

"And here," she called out as he slowly made his way to the bathroom. He turned around just as a pair of loud green swim trunks, eerily similar to the ones he had worn at their first wedding, smacked him in the face. "Wear these under your clothes. You're gonna need them where we're going."

* * *

The train ride lasted nearly two hours, two hours that consisted of Victoria fending off Billy's playful attempts to break her secrecy about where they were going. He tried tricking her into admitting their destination, and when that didn't work, he moved on to kissing her into submission. But she stayed strong, determined to keep the surprise no matter his torturous levels of temptation, and any concerns she had about the weather not cooperating with her plans diminished along with the clouds the farther west they traveled.

When the train finally stopped and they stepped out of the station, warm sunshine and clear, salty air greeted them. Past houses that rose from rocky cliffs, past a stretch of soft, ivory sand, Victoria's surprise for Billy lay before them in the shape of shimmering water that ranged in color from barely blue to deep sapphire.

"The surfing's probably not as good as Jamaica," Victoria warned with a smile. "But I can guarantee you the water isn't nearly as cold as Santa Monica."

He was speechless and pleased, just the reaction she had hoped for. He deserved a break from Florence, from city life, and they both could use a respite from all the drama and sadness of the last few days and months. She wanted today to mark the beginning of their life anew, their future bright and not held hostage by her fear or past losses, and there was no better way to celebrate than a day at the beach.

"What's this place called?" he finally asked.

"Castiglioncello," she responded in perfect, lilting Italian, pronouncing each syllable with passion and animation. "I came here a few times when I lived in Italy before."

He leaned towards her, a huge, suggestive grin on his face. "You know, that's a real turn-on. When you speak Italian."

"Oh yeah? Then we should probably stick to English, huh?"

He groaned in disappointment as she pulled away without a kiss, and laughing, she took his hand in hers and pulled him towards the warm, soothing waters of the Mediterranean. They nearly had the gorgeous coastline to themselves since tourist season had come and gone and most Italians had returned to school and life in the cities. They quickly discovered how right Victoria was, that the water was still warm though fall was only days away, and the next few hours were spent swimming and snorkeling in the crystal clear water, him in the trunks she had ordered him to wear, her in a bikini that proudly flaunted her belly and caused Billy's eyes to grow large and his mouth to drop when she first revealed it.

By afternoon, Victoria was tired and took to the comfort of a blanket and the shade of an umbrella, looking on as Billy tried his hand at wind-surfing, and then, when he had mastered the sport and the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon, he joined her on the shore, sitting behind her so she could lean against him and he could wrap his arms around her chest just below the place where the St. Gerard medal still hung around her neck. At some point when he had been in the water, she had put his shirt on over her swimsuit, but left it unbuttoned. That, plus the sunset in front of them stirred in Billy memories of exactly six months ago when they had spent another day at the beach and watched a sunset and then made a miracle. In front of him, Victoria was quiet, and he knew the sense of déjà vu was not lost on her either. He studied the side of her face and watched where she watched. Out in the distance at that imaginary separation between the sparkling water and the cloudless sky, Victoria's eyes were fixed on a single bird, following its flight as it dipped down to the water and then back up, soaring farther and farther away until it was a tiny, black speck.

"That bird knows," Billy whispered in her ear and hugged her tighter, his fingers drawing circles on the inside of one of her wrists.

"Knows what?" she murmured, the warmth of a smile in her voice though she shivered beneath his touch.

"That nothing separates the ocean and the sky. Our bird knows it, too."

Her smile grew to a soft laugh as she recalled the words she had said to him that afternoon in Santa Monica, the sentiment she had repeated in the postcard she had sent him from D.C. He had remembered, and taking the hand he had moved to her stomach at the mention of their baby, she placed a kiss in his palm before shifting in his hold just enough so she could see his face.

"I'm ready to go."

"Oh," he said, and his face fell a bit in confusion. "I thought we were having dinner here and then catching the last train back to Florence, but if you're ready now—"

"No." She shook her head and placed a finger on his lips, silencing him, and then taking a deep breath, she told him what she had waited all day to reveal. "Not back to Florence. Home, Billy. I'm ready to go home."

His confusion multiplied as he processed what she had said, and he sat up straighter, bringing her with him so he could better look in her eyes. "You're ready to go home?" he repeated, and she nodded her answer. "Are you sure? I mean…but you…what changed your mind?"

"You. You changed my mind. Taking me to that church, us facing this together, it helped. And then…"

"What?"

"I had the dream last night," she confessed.

"What? But I didn't hear you? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because it wasn't scary, Billy," she said emphatically, trying to ease the alarm and concern in his voice. "It wasn't scary. It was…" She paused and ducked her head, unsure what to say, momentarily unsure if she should tell him at all. But after yesterday, after everything they had been through there wasn't anything they couldn't say to each other and nothing she wanted to keep from him. "I saw the baby. I saw our baby, and it was beautiful and healthy and strong. And I know it may sound silly, but… I saw your dad, too."

"My dad?" His voice cracked, and he searched her watery eyes for an explanation.

"Yeah, he was with the baby, keeping it safe until it's our turn. And maybe it's just because we were talking about him yesterday, I don't know, but I feel better. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I feel like things are going to be okay, and it's time to stop running. I'm tired of running. I want to go home. I want to see the kids and my mom and Keely and our house. I'm ready to go home with you, Billy."

He didn't say anything, just sat there in shock, absorbing all she had told him. The mention of his dad had made him emotional as well, and Victoria reached up to caress his cheek, just as a huge grin spread across his face. "You hear that, owl," he said and leaned as close to Victoria's belly as he could, pushing his shirt out of the way with his free hand. "We're going home. You, me, and your mom, we're going home." And at the sharp intake of breath, he looked up to see a strange expression on Victoria's face and new tears forming in her eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she lied and then added, "It's just, um, it's the first time you've talked to the baby. I was starting to wonder…"

"If I really wanted it?" he finished for her. "I do, Vick, and maybe I didn't even realize how much until the other night, but I want this baby, and I want you. I want this whole thing. It's just…we're still getting to know each other, right?"

"I told the baby stories about you," she said as he placed a kiss on the top of her stomach. "Every night. It was the only thing that would calm it down actually."

"Yeah?" He smiled sheepishly at Victoria and then turned back to her stomach. "Well, most of it's true, kid, and knowing your mom, she probably made me sound a lot better than I am. But, um, I promise to love you and take care of you and to be the best dad I can. And I just…I can't wait to meet you. But not yet," he added quickly. "You just stay in there as long as you want, okay?"

The sun had sunk lower, and the air had turned cooler, all in a matter of minutes. Billy pulled Victoria back against him, hugging her tight, tangling his legs with hers in an effort to keep her warm. They would have to get dressed soon, say goodbye to this day, and make plans to move forward in their life together, but first, they silently agreed to put off the inevitable for just a little longer.

"So what do want?" she asked without looking at him. "A boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter. As long as it's healthy. And you, too"

"Yeah, but admit it, you liked the idea of having a son, didn't you?"

"I liked the idea of us being parents again," he corrected. "And the way I see it, we already have a son and a daughter, so this one is just-it's a blessing. And if somewhere down the road, we decide we want more—"

"Hold up, Billy," she warned, her body stiffening beneath his hold. "I don't think this could happen again or that I could go through it again. This is probably it for us."

"I was going to say, if we decide we want more, we can look into adoption, legal adoption, or we could try surrogacy. I actually…I got all this information about gestational carriers or whatever it's called , and I was going to talk to you about us trying again when you came back from D.C., but…"

"But I never came back," she sighed, and silence descended upon them both. There wasn't anything to say really. All of the truth was out in the open, the dots just waiting to be connected. "I guess we just got in too big of a hurry, didn't we? I wanted things to be so perfect for us, like some TV show out of the fifties."

He kissed the top of her head and let his chin rest there afterwards. "And I just wanted to fix things for you so bad after the miscarriage and after the doctor said we couldn't have another one. I just ended up making things worse."

"I don't know why this time is different, Billy, why I'm getting another chance at this, but I want to do it all. I want to pick out names and a color for the nursery without worrying it's gonna jinx things. I want to go to those stupid birthing classes that everybody says are pointless. And I want to be there. That's what I want most of all, just to be there when the baby's born, to hear the first cry, to hold it."

"I want that for you, too, Vick," Billy said quietly, amazed at her simple requests, the ones most people took for granted. Hell, he had taken it for granted, too, but if there was any justice or good in the world, this time would be different, and she would get all of the things she asked for, especially the baby.

As if on cue, their little miracle kicked, hard and repeatedly. Victoria winced in pain and moved her hands to rub the spot where she was being assaulted. The kicks were so strong Billy could literally see the baby's foot protrude as it stretched inside Victoria's body. It was an incredible sight, but at the same time, he hated seeing her in pain.

"Hey, you want a story?" he asked their child, remembering what Victoria had just told him. He moved his hands lower, spreading them across her ever-growing stomach, touching the places she had told him earlier were the baby's feet and then the baby's head. "Cause I got a story about this really, really good lookin' screw-up and a beautiful ice princess."

Victoria smiled and listened as Billy proceeded to calm the baby with the story of New Year's Eve 2009, telling it about his bad night and the ice queen who pulled him to safety and how in return he had melted her heart. It was the perfect moment, the perfect life, and it couldn't have been farther from "Father Knows Best." There was still fear and worry, probably always would be, but it wasn't that suffocating albatross around her neck. It was, in fact, what she assumed was normal concern an expectant parent felt for a child, and for once, it was extraordinary to just be normal.

* * *

_September 18, 2012_

"Billy, it's time," Victoria shouted from the couch of the Florence apartment. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," came Billy's muffled response from the bedroom where he had spent the better part of the morning packing, adding the few things she wanted to take home with her to all the clothes he had purchased while in Italy, putting the rest, the summer maternity clothes she wouldn't need in Wisconsin, into boxes to be donated. "But um, what's my shirt doing in with your things?" he asked accusingly as he stumbled from the mess in the bedroom and joined her on the sofa. "I've been looking for this shirt for months. I blamed our dry cleaner for losing it."

"Sorry," she offered quietly and batted her big expressive eyes at him. "I didn't think you would mind, and I…just wanted to be close to you."

"You wanted to be close to me? You wanted to be close to me? Well come here? I'll show you close." He pulled her to him, eliminating the space between them as his hands roamed her body and his mouth teased her neck.

"Stop," she squealed, fending him off with a pillow. "We don't have time for that right now. They'll kill each other if we make them wait much longer."

"Ugh," he groaned in defeat and straightened his appearance for the mission they had planned for this exact moment. "You're right. So, you still sure about doing this?"

"Yep, you?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay then," she sighed, and they both turned their attention to the laptop on the coffee table. Releasing a final breath, Victoria hugged the pillow to her body and hit the button that almost immediately delivered an image of both their mothers in the Chancellor living room doing what they do best, arguing with each other. Billy and Victoria shared a laugh at the familiar, yet juvenile behavior, and then Billy let out an ear-piercing whistle to get their attention.

"Oh, Victoria, my angel," Nikki said, "it's so good to see you. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Mom. It's good to see you, too. You, too, Jill."

"Oh, Victoria, we're just all so glad you're okay and that you and my son have obviously worked things out…again."

"What about me? Nobody glad to see me?" Billy asked in mock offense, and all three women simply rolled their eyes at him.

"Listen," Victoria began, "We're really sorry we made you guys do this so early but we just couldn't wait any longer to tell you our news."

"Please tell me you're coming home," Nikki blurted excitedly.

"Well, we are, but that's not what we have to tell you."

"Let me guess," Jill sighed teasingly, "you two have decided that three, count them, three weddings aren't enough and now you expect all of us to just drop our lives and come to Italy for a fourth one."

"Huh, that's actually not a bad idea, Mom, but no, it's better than that," Billy smiled and turned to give Victoria a knowing smile.

"Well, what is it?" the two women shouted in unison from halfway across the world, and without taking their eyes off each other, Billy and Victoria reached for the pillow she still held in her lap, disguising their surprise, and let it fall to the floor.

"You're gonna be grandmas again," Victoria said as Billy's hand outlined the proof of her statement, and when they finally tore their eyes off each other and looked in the direction of the excited shrieks, they witnessed a sight that was just maybe as miraculous as the baby itself. The two women were hugging each other, fiercely and joyfully. Gone was the usual snark, and it made Billy and Victoria laugh as their mothers wiped tears from their eyes.

"When are you coming home?" Nikki asked when all four had calmed down and after Billy and Victoria had provided the basics about the pregnancy. "We'll plan a huge welcome home party for you."

"Not for a couple of days," Billy spoke up when he saw Victoria hesitate. "We've arranged for a private plane for Victoria's comfort. That takes time. Plus, we're, um, gonna stop and see Reed first…and also…" He looked to his wife for agreement and when she encouraged him to continue he looked back at the two women apologetically. "We kind of don't want you to make a big deal about it. No parties, nothing like that. Victoria doesn't need any stress, so if you guys could just maybe spread the word about everything, tell people so that when we get home, it's old news. I mean, that's something you two can handle, right?"

"Of course," Nikki agreed with a smile, fully understanding her daughter's history and concerns, and Jill immediately nodded her approval as well. "We'll save the celebration for after the baby's born. But, Victoria? About your father…"

"I don't plan on seeing him, Mom." Victoria sat up straighter at the mention of the man she still blamed for so much, and Billy put an arm around her for comfort and support. "I hope you understand, but I can't…I just can't risk that relationship right now."

"Oh, baby, I understand that, and believe it or not, I think he does, too. But, what I was going to say is why don't you take the Newman jet home. It's ready as soon as you are. Your father left it for you in Florence, flew back commercial and never told me why. I guess I know now."

"No," Victoria said matter-of-factly. "It's just a trick to get me to forgive him. No."

Nikki seemed willing to drop it, but to Victoria's surprise Billy didn't. "I think we should take it, Vick. The jet's familiar, you'll be more comfortable, and we don't fall for tricks. Remember?"

"He's right, Victoria," her mother-in-law chimed in. "And the sooner you leave, the sooner you get to see Reed…"

She felt ganged up on, but not in a bad way. They were all right and were making valid points, but Jill's was the tipping point. She had given up enough time with her son over the past few weeks. She needed to see him in person, to hold him, to apologize, and nothing, not even her father, would get in the way of that.

"Okay," she finally agreed, and the three others let out victory cheers. "Is tonight soon enough for all of you?"

"Perfect," the three said together, and after saying their goodbyes and making promises to call as soon as they landed in D.C., Victoria hit the button that once again left just her and Billy together in an apartment thousands of miles away.

"You still sure about going home," Billy asked, picking up on something in her demeanor, a sadness or hesitancy. "Because…I know I've been more than a little excited that you changed your mind, but I meant what I said, Vick. We can stay as long as you want."

"No, that's not it," she said with a smile as she caressed his ear. "But there is something I have to do before we leave. I have to say goodbye to Florence."

* * *

The first place they stopped on their farewell tour of Florence was the convent school where Victoria had found sanity in her seclusion, where Billy had ultimately found Victoria. He stood uneasily behind her as students and instructors both surrounded her, making excited exchanges in Italian. He had picked up a few words and phrases in the days he had lived there, but the language barrier still made him feel like an outsider. That, plus memories of his exhausting first day in the city, when he had run into dead ends at every turn in his search, placed the school low on his list of favorite places.

Sensing his discomfort, Victoria turned and pulled him into the fold, translating every word as quickly as they were spoken. She introduced him to the nun who had been so dismissive and cold that day, urging him not to hold it against her. The nuns were protective of her, she told him, and they were just doing what she had asked of them, never suspecting he would be the one to come to this place looking for her.

"She approves of you," Victoria whispered in his ear, her fingers displaying the St. Gerard for him to see. "Says you're a smart man for giving this to me."

That was enough for any ill will he felt to dissipate, and Billy found himself suddenly relaxed and taking part in the conversation as best he could. The girl with the big eyes was there, too, the one who had taken pity on him and pointed him towards Victoria. Her name was Sophia, and she had been just a little girl last time Victoria had been in Florence, her favorite student and now working on becoming a teacher herself. Billy thanked her profusely for her help that day, as did Victoria, and when they finally made their way to the exit, the girl whispered something in Victoria's ear.

"She thinks you're cute," Victoria said when they were a block away from the school. "That's why she helped you."

"Oh, really?" Billy said and flashed his grin. "The Abbott charm never fails."

Victoria pushed him away playfully, but he grabbed her arm gently and linked it with his. She complied easily, and as they strolled down the street, he realized it was the same one, the same path he had taken a week ago, just at a slower pace and with a much different purpose. Just as last time, the great cathedral of Florence surprised him with its presence, rising before them seemingly out of nowhere though it sat in the middle of a crowded city. On all of their sightseeing in the last few days, they had avoided the Duomo, not for any spoken reason, but now he assumed it was to steer clear of any of those unpleasant memories of their reunion. It was a beautiful building, and now that he wasn't consumed with searching the crowded piazza for the one person in the world he was connected to like no other, he could appreciate its beauty, its gothic façade, the red, green and white marble, and that impossible dome that rose above the city.

"This is it, you know."

He heard Victoria's voice above the hum of the crowd and suddenly realized they had stopped right in front of the church. But she wasn't looking at the church, her eyes instead on the octagonal building of similar design just a few feet away from the cathedral's entrance.

"This is where the Renaissance started," she said, and his eyes followed hers to the building's golden doors, featuring panels carved with images from the Bible. "These doors were so perfect that it sparked a rebirth in art and literature and thought. Because of a couple of doors, can you imagine that?" she shrugged and looked at him for an answer.

But he could. Doors had a way of sparking new things. New loves. New risks. Second chances. And as they stood there among a crowd taking pictures of the start of the Renaissance, he saw that she knew, too. Florence was the cradle of the Renaissance, a rebirth of civilization, but it was also the place of their rebirth, where they were given a second chance, where their relationship rose from the ashes and blossomed into something deeper than desire, stronger than love, richer than all the marble and gold in the city.

"I forgot," she laughed suddenly, breaking the solemnity of their revelation. "This is the baptistery, where babies are baptized before they're allowed to enter the church." And when his quizzical look remained, she smiled, "It's called the Battistero di San Giovanni, the Baptistery of St. John. You think it's a sign."

He smiled in return and pulled her to him, linking his fingers at the small of her back, a more difficult feat than in months past. "Someone once told me that there are signs everywhere, but it's what you choose to make of them that's important."

"I always thought your dad was a smart man, and so I am going to choose to believe it is a sign, a good sign."

"Me too," Billy said and kissed her reverently on the mouth before they began to move again on their farewell tour of Florence. "You know, next time we come here—"

"Oh, next time? You mean you're willing to come back here?"

"Of course, I happen to actually love Florence, thanks to you. But next time, I think we should bring the kids, all three of them," he smiled. "We can see the sights, take them to Casti-whatever that place was called and—."

"Introduce them to gelato," Victoria interrupted. "Oh, I'm going to miss gelato so much. This one is, too, I'm afraid."

"Never fear. It just so happens that I have already found three places within sixty miles of Genoa City that serve real, authentic, Italian gelato."

"My hero," Victoria said and laid her head on his shoulder. "You know, as much as I love Florence, I cannot wait to get home. We'll be just in time for fall, the leaves changing, and then the first snow. I love the first snow. And all the holidays, Halloween, Thanksgiving. And by Christmas…"

They both instinctively touched her belly, knowing that the time would pass both too slowly and much too fast as they waited for December and the arrival of their baby. "So, I guess the bunny costume's out of the question this year," Billy teased and raised his eyebrows suggestively as Victoria shot him a dirty look. "Although, I really think you could pull it off. It would be sexy. Hot."

"Ummmm, no."

"You know, that's the same thing you said last time, but it's okay, we have time to discuss it." She shook her head and pulled him in a different direction than the one they were headed, raising his suspicions. "So, what else do you want to do? Because I am ready when you are."

"Just one more thing," she said. "A Florentine tradition. Something you _have_ to do before you leave."

It was a pig she led him to, a bronze sculpture of a boar to be exact, referred to as 'Il Porcellino.' Situated in the middle of an outdoor market, the sculpture was surrounded by tourists taking turns rubbing its snout and putting something in its mouth.

"You put a coin in its mouth and let it fall through the grate there under it for good luck,' Victoria explained. "And then you rub its snout to ensure that you will one day return to Florence."

"Well," Billy said when it was their turn, "I never snub tradition, so here goes."

Together, they placed a euro from Billy's pocket into Il Porcellino's mouth and watched as it rolled out and through an opening in the grate below. And then with their fingers linked together, they rubbed the smooth, well-worn snout of the statue while visions of a future trip with three kids played in their heads. And as they turned to go, to head back to the apartment and gather their things before heading to the airport, Billy took a deep breath and bid the city of their rebirth farewell.

"Arrivederci, Florence," he shouted and pulled at Victoria's hand.

But she stopped, for just a second and said a silent thank you to the city, for taking her in again, for being home when she needed it, and mostly, for giving her back Billy. "Until we meet again," she whispered and without looking back, she caught up with her husband as they headed into their future, uncharted but together.


	18. Chapter 18

So, this is the last chapter, more of an epilogue really. I hadn't originally planned for this chapter, but as I went along, I realized the ending might be unsatisfactory without tying up the loose ends. Just know, it was hard work choosing a name, and the gender actually. But in the end, I went with my gut and what worked with this story. For anyone who's been following this story, thanks for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed it. I worked on it for over nine months, so in a way, it's my baby. Thanks again, and happy reading.

* * *

_December 24, 2012_

The door to the nursery was open, not all the way but enough so that Billy could easily see inside. The walls that had once been pink and that for a few weeks last spring had been covered with six blue squares that Victoria had sworn were all different shades now glowed soft yellow in the lamplight that spilled into the hallway where he stood, silent and unseen. It had taken them weeks to choose the color, weeks of poring over paint chips and discussions that led to playful arguments, but ultimately, the name on the winning square, Santa Monica Sunset, had seemed like a sign they couldn't ignore.

But Billy hadn't stopped outside the door tonight to admire the paint job or the brand new furniture they had bought as a clean slate for their brand new little person. It was Victoria's voice instead, soft and low, that had caught his attention, alerting him to the fact that she was in there, beckoning him to the opening for a glimpse of the sight he never got tired of seeing. She was in the rocking chair her mother had given them weeks ago, the same one Nikki had rocked Victoria in as a baby and the only piece of furniture in the room that wasn't new, and cradled in her arms, attached at the full ivory curve of her exposed breast was the baby they had prayed for, the one they had fought for, the one they had been told they would never have.

Part of him felt like a voyeur, huddled outside the door watching them, watching as Victoria nursed their child, running her fingers softly across the light wisps of hair on the baby's delicate head, deep in the midst of some silly conversation known only to mother and child. But he wasn't a voyeur. He knew she had left the door open purposefully as part of their new nighttime routine, as a gift to him, allowing him to be a part of this act only she could perform. It was perhaps the most thoughtful and precious gift anyone had ever given him.

He hadn't moved a muscle or made a sound the entire time he stood outside the nursery, but somehow, just as she had every night for the last two weeks, Victoria sensed he was there and tore her eyes away from the tiny squirming creature in her arms and fixed them on Billy's, lovingly, knowingly. He smiled shyly at the scene before him, and when Victoria's serene face spread into a small, teary-eyed smile of her own, he knew that the same memory that was passing through his brain also had a hold on hers. That day just over two weeks ago was never far from either of them, never would be, he assumed, because it wasn't every day you met a miracle.

* * *

December 8, 2012

Eleven weeks had passed since they landed in Genoa City, a return that had gone better than either Billy or Victoria could have imagined, much less planned, beginning with the stop they made in D.C. to see Reed. The little boy had been thrilled to see his mother and stepfather, squeezing their necks tight, eagerly accepting the gifts they had brought him from Italy, completely unaware that the future of their family had ever been in question. And he had been excited to learn he was going to be a big brother again, but disappointed that they couldn't tell him if he'd be having a little brother or sister.

J.T. was the biggest surprise of the trip, however, from the uneasy way he stood and stared at Victoria's ever-expanding stomach to his suggestion that Reed actually skip a day of school so they could spend more time together, and then on their last night in the nation's capital, he and Mac had invited them both to dinner at their home. The meal was strained and awkward, but Victoria had agreed because it meant more time with her son, and then, when the dishes had been cleared and just when the foursome began to get comfortable with each other, J.T. dropped the bombshell that they were moving again.

"Where?" Victoria had squeaked out, and Billy had instinctively scooted his chair closer to her, draping his arm protectively around her shoulders. But it didn't stop the fear and heartache from rising in her as she waited for him to say 'New York' or 'New Orleans' or God forbid 'Africa' so Mac could fulfill her desire to save the world.

"Chicago."

She forced her eyes up to meet her ex's, and for the first time in a really long time, they saw each other and remembered that, once upon a time, there had been love. His jaw was clenched tight, his hands restless but his eyes tender and sympathetic as he told her that their contracts with the nonprofit in D.C. would expire in November, that they already had jobs lined up at another in Chicago, and that they were currently looking at houses in a neighborhood just thirty minutes outside of Genoa City.

"And…uh…I had papers drawn up a few days ago to…uh….give you joint custody of Reed," he had continued, causing her to lose the battle against the tears that had formed at the word 'Chicago.'

"Why?" she had asked, honestly shocked and confused. "Why are you doing this now?"

He was nearly as affected by his confession as she was, and Mac had taken his hand reassuringly just as Billy often did for her. "It's been on my mind for a while now, but, uh, somebody recently reminded me what we went through to get Reed. What you went through. And now you're uh, you're uh…" He was stuttering, unable to get the words out, so he had simply nodded towards her belly to indicate his point and then forced himself to look her in the eyes. "I should have never taken him away, Victoria. I was angry and hurt, and I'm sorry."

She looked to Billy immediately, who shook his head, denying any involvement in J.T.'s sudden change of heart, not that it mattered who was responsible. She accepted J.T.'s apology cautiously, fully aware that it could never give her back all the time she had missed with her little boy or erase the pain at having him ripped away from her. But she was getting him back, and that fact was what she chose to focus on and what made saying goodbye to him this time a little easier.

And then when they finally reached the front door of their house the next day, exhausted from traveling, they were relieved to discover that their mothers had kept their promise. There was no huge welcome-home party waiting for them, just a clean house, a fully-stocked fridge, and dozens of notes and cards from friends and family congratulating them on their new addition. Even Nikki and Jill waited until the next day to show up, and they were soon followed by Kevin and Chloe, bringing Delia for her long overdue days at Daddy's and returning Keely, who rushed immediately to his owner and cocked his head pensively at her changed anatomy.

The weeks that followed were relatively uneventful. Billy, after begrudgingly forgiving her for her part in Victoria's disappearance, turned over the day-to-day operation of the magazine to Phyllis so all of his time and attention could be spent on Victoria and the baby, decorating the nursery, making lists of names, and attending birthing classes with the hopes she would be able to avoid a third C-section. They had appointments with Dr. Lange every week, and afterwards, they would head to the chapel in the hospital or the church where they were married last Christmas Eve and sit a while to give thanks for another successful week gone by and to pray for just a little bit longer, a little more time for their precious miracle to grow. Halloween came and went, and the annual party at Jimmy's carried on without its hosts. Then came the first snow of the season and a quiet Thanksgiving spent at home, just the two of them like their very first Thanksgiving as husband and wife.

But today, December 8, was different. It was the day they thought would never come, the day Victoria never in a million years believed she would even make it to. It was her due date, and though the last eleven weeks of her pregnancy had passed without complications or signs of preeclampsia, her anxiety level was off the charts today.

"Why did she make me come here?" Victoria barreled through the revolving door at the GCAC so fast it continued to spin long after she exited. Billy stood on the other side, out in the cold Wisconsin air, until she was far enough away for him to feel it was safe to enter.

"I'm sure your mother thought she was doing you a favor by asking you to lunch," he rationalized once he finally joined her in the warm entryway. He took her by the shoulders and massaged them gently while his eyes tried to wrangle her furious gaze. "She probably thought it would be good for you to get out of the house for a little while. To get your mind off this one."

"Don't touch me. I don't want to be touched."

She shrugged his hands off her shoulders in a huff, but he returned them just as quickly and with a cocky grin, leaned his mouth close to her ear. "That's not what you said last night. Or this morning."

She tried not to give him the satisfaction of a flustered smile, but not smiling was always a losing battle when it came to Billy. Exhaling loudly, she rolled her head back against her neck in exasperation and tried to force the tension from her body. "You're right. It's just…."

"Hey. I know, okay? I know. And if you want me to take you home, I will. But it's not gonna make the baby come any sooner, and it's not gonna make you stop worrying." He slid his hands off her shoulders and down her arms where he took her hands in his and brought them to rest in the customary spot under his chin. "You heard the doctor. If it doesn't happen this weekend, then first thing Monday, right?"

"But that's just it, Billy," she sighed. "We've waited so long for this. _So long_. And I just…I want the baby to come when it's ready. I don't want to rush it."

"But we have to do what's best for you, too. Remember? And the baby's full-term. Perfectly healthy, the doc said. I don't think he or she will mind a little push, not if it means keeping Mommy safe."

Slowly, Victoria nodded her agreement, acknowledging that he was right, and with a kiss to the back of each of her hands, they headed into the club in search of her mother. Victoria saw her right away, standing in the dining room, waiting to greet them with open arms and a hesitant smile. But Nikki wasn't alone. Jill was there, too, with Katherine and dozens of balloons in varying shades of green and yellow and a banner that read 'It's a …Baby!' And behind them was her sister and both of Billy's, as well as Phyllis, Summer, Lauren, Chloe and Delia, all of the women important to her, to them. Some of them shouted 'surprise,' while all of them stared at her, smiling in anticipation.

Only, Victoria didn't smile back at what was clearly a surprise baby shower. She couldn't, not on this day, not until the baby was born and safe. Fear caught in her chest, tightening into a knot that made it hard for her to breathe. She wanted to run, to get away from this well-intentioned crowd and this celebration she had never experienced before and had been afraid to even want. And she would have run, if it hadn't been for Billy. She felt his hand against the small of her back, rubbing the spot that, underneath her clothes, would always read 'Billy Forever,' and then his breath brushed warm against her ear.

"You okay? I didn't know, Vick. We can leave. I'll explain it to them." His touch was a lifeline, grounding her in what was real, chasing away the fear, loosening the knot in her chest so she could breathe again.

"No." She turned her face to nuzzle his, while the now deflated crowd looked on. "I'm okay. I'm good. It's just a party, right?"

He nodded against her neck, and she reached behind her, grabbing the hand still on her back, giving it a quick squeeze of gratitude before she surrendered to the swarm of women, who quickly enveloped her with hugs and kisses. Billy didn't leave the baby shower and head to the gym as he had planned, even though she reassured him again and again that she was fine. He took a seat at the bar, instead, sipping a beer as the women 'oohed' and' aahed' over each present Victoria opened with Delia at her side, the little girl's hand permanently attached to her stepmother's stomach. She was having fun, at peace, and he was glad, but thirty minutes into the party, he saw Victoria's hand move quickly to her belly and a strange look cross her face. She looked up from the cake and presents, searching for him, grateful when her eyes landed on his, and he knew, simply knew, that it was time.

He practically leapt off the bar stool, disrupting the party, sending the women scattering like a flock of hens as he made his way through them to get to his wife. The room was suddenly full of excitement and a flurry of conversation over who should stay and who should go, but all he could see, all he could focus on was Victoria and getting her to the hospital.

They made it there in record time, though as Dr. Lange warned when he arrived shortly after Victoria had been admitted, labor could take anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of days. She insisted she didn't care, and she and Billy quickly fell into a groove when it came to the contractions that soon came faster and stronger. They were in their own little world that no one else, excluding Dr. Lange and the nurses, was allowed to enter. She was full of resolve and focus, traits Billy knew she possessed but had never been so privy to or in awe of. She handled the pain like a champ, while he, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck watching her suffer, unable to do anything other than massage her back or rub ice chips along her lips. It was well after midnight, officially a day past her due date, when Dr. Lange finally announced it was time to push, and that's when she finally showed cracks in her armor.

"I changed my mind," she panted after the strongest contraction yet. "I can't do this."

Billy was by her side where he had been for the last twelve hours or so, struck suddenly dumb by her abrupt confession. "Yes, you can, Vick. You can do this. Besides, uh, not that I'm an expert or anything, but I think maybe it's a little late to change your mind."

"Uh-uh. I was wrong. The coma was the way to go. It hurts too much, Billy. It hurts."

"You don't mean that." He could see fear in her eyes, and though she had said it was because of the pain, he sensed it was more than that, a different kind of fear that comes right before getting exactly what you always wanted. He pushed her hair back off her face and rested his forehead against hers, their eyes so close together all either of them could see was blue. "Hey, you remember when we got tattoos?"

She nodded her head against his, and they both smiled at the memory as he slipped his hand into hers and lowered his voice to a loving murmur. "And I told you to squeeze my hand if it hurts? You can do that now, too. Squeeze as hard as you want, baby. I can take it."

"I'm too tired. I can't."

"I know you're tired, but…this is it. This is it, Vick. You're gonna meet your baby, and you're here. You're here. Remember?"

She did. She did remember that day on the beach in Italy and the words she had said to him, and when Dr. Lange said 'push,' she was there again, floating in the warm Mediterranean waters with Billy, their bodies suspended halfway between water and sky. She squeezed his hand and focused only on him, blue eyes on blue eyes, reflecting each other, absorbing the other's intensity. Like ocean and sky. They were ocean and sky, together forever.

A strange calm came over her, and adrenaline stronger than the rush she experienced that night they got tattoos in celebration of her freedom from Victor kicked in. Each time Dr. Lange instructed her to push, she did, harder than the time before as Billy counted backwards from ten. And after the fifth push, time stopped. The room went still. As still as that church in Florence as they all waited in hushed silence for a miracle. It came softly at first and then louder, that strangled, muffled announcement of new life.

"It's a girl," Dr. Lange declared proudly, and before either of them had time to process the news, the squirming, wailing creature was on Victoria. Their daughter. Their daughter was on Victoria's chest, and they both had to wipe away tears to get a good look at their little girl.

"Hi," Victoria managed in a haze of amazement, tenderly touching the tiny baby like it was a cloud, unreal and would disappear at contact. "I'm your mom."

"And I'm your dad," Billy added, placing the very first kiss on the delicate head of the best thing that had ever happened in a hospital. "And you, you are ours forever."

It was just the three of them for what seemed like an eternity, taking pictures, getting to know each other, so lost in their own little three-person world they nearly missed Dr. Lange's impending departure. But Victoria saw him out of the corner of her eye, watching them, a warm smile on his face, and she wondered how she could have ever not seen his kindness.

"Thank you," she said to him, and though he waved her off, she repeated the sentiment. "Thank you for this."

"You did all the work," the older gentleman said. "Just be sure to send me a picture for my wall, okay?"

"Your wall?" Billy questioned.

"My wall of miracles," he smiled as he headed for the door. "I'll check on you two later, alright?"

"174," Victoria called out, stopping him with a tender smile. "Not 172. There are exactly 174 tiles on the ceiling of your exam room."

Deep laughter echoed inside the delivery room and spilled into the hallway as the doctor who had tricked her into taking her first look at the baby now dozing safely in her father's arms pulled the heavy, wooden door open. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, turning back one last time to acknowledge their secret while Billy looked on in confusion.

* * *

He had to leave them, Victoria and their daughter, in order to do his fatherly duties and spread the good news to everyone waiting to hear. During the confusion at the baby shower, they had instructed them all, even their mothers, to go home, to not come to the hospital, but as Billy wandered into the waiting room, exhausted but overjoyed, he saw that none of them had listened. They were all there, everyone who had been at the baby shower, minus Summer and Delia, but including Nick, and Kevin and Michael, Jack and even Murphy. And they were all sound asleep, sprawled across every available couch and chair, a chorus of snores rising throughout the room.

Billy tiptoed among the unconscious to reach his mom and Nikki, who were strangely enough resting side by side, a testament to the power a new baby has over people. He barely nudged them, but they both sprang awake instantly, and Billy placed a finger over his lips to silence them as he led them past their sleeping friends and family and out into the hallway.

"You have a granddaughter," he beamed, and the two women clasped their hands over their mouths and pulled Billy into a smothering hug. When they released him, he gave them all the pertinent information: born at 3:17 a.m., 6 lbs. 3oz, 21 inches long, mother and baby both doing well. He also gave them Victoria's room number and told them to go ahead, she was waiting for them, and when the two women were out of sight, Billy took off in the opposite direction.

Except for the candles glowing at the altar, the chapel was dark, and as far as he could tell, empty. He let the door close behind him and took measured steps down the aisle, his eyes fixed on the gold cross before him as he moved. This chapel was nowhere near as ornate or ancient as the church he had visited twice while in Florence, but tonight it was just as sacred. Tonight, the entire world felt sacred, and when there were no more steps to take, when Billy had reached the front of the chapel, he clasped the palms of his hands together and fell to his knees, his face turned towards heaven.

"Thank you," he cried, letting the tears flow as relentlessly as a child's, but as intensely as those of a man who finally understood true gratitude. Thank you for his new daughter, he meant to say but couldn't. Thank you for keeping Victoria safe. And most of all, for ignoring his prayers all those months ago.

He stayed there on his knees and cried until every tear had been expelled, and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move and was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone. The shadowy figure moved again, rising slowly from the far end of the pew to his right, and when it loomed closer, the glowing candlelight illuminated the wrinkled face of the one person Billy now realized had been glaringly missing from the group in the waiting room.

Though Billy remained on his knees, it was clear to both men that tonight, in this instance, Victor was the one in the subservient position. Unashamed, he wiped away tears with the back of his hand and forced himself up until the two men were eye to eye, each silently questioning the other's motive for being here, in this chapel, tonight. Since returning from Italy, he and Victoria had only run into her father a handful of times, and each time, true to his word, the older man had only said a quick, polite 'hello,' wished them well, and continued on his way. But he was here tonight, this night, and Billy couldn't help but wonder if he was making his move back into Victoria's life.

"I take it the baby has arrived." Victor spoke first, his voice forcibly formal, his demeanor unlike the bullying man Billy was used to.

Billy nodded and smiled proudly. "A girl. A beautiful little girl."

"And my daughter? How is she?"

"Over the moon," Billy said, and in the dark, Victor exhaled in relief and smiled, and Billy knew he had only come as a father worried about his daughter, that he had stayed in the chapel, hidden and out of the way, much like Billy had skulked through the halls to see Delia last fall. It was a new position Billy found himself in, feeling sympathy for the man who had caused him so much pain, who had unapologetically hurt the woman he loved over and over again, but he also knew all too well what it was like to lose his family and to only have himself to blame for it.

Tonight, Billy had received a gift from the universe, and maybe that had elevated the generosity of his spirit. Or maybe it was something else, but he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his cell phone and after finding what he was looking for, handed it to Victor. Tears formed in the old man's eyes this time as he looked at the very first picture Billy had taken of his beautiful wife and new daughter, Victoria's head bent towards the baby's, a clear, maternal smile on her face. Victor held the phone like it was the most precious metal known to man until he had forged the image into his brain and then handed it wordlessly back to his son-in-law. He took two steps forward, heading towards the door, but stopped when he was side by side with Billy. In a move that shocked him and that the older man would undoubtedly deny in the future, Victor placed a hand on Billy's shoulder and gave it a strong squeeze of thanks.

"Does she have a name yet?"

Billy shook his head no, and Victor quickly removed his hand from his shoulder, using it to reach inside the pocket of his sport coat, where he retrieved a book. It wasn't a new book, Billy could tell by the wear to the binding and the pages that someone had dog-eared, but when Victor offered it to him, he took it and carefully read the cover.

"Maybe you two can find something in there you like." And with that, with no other words, no other questions about the baby or Victoria, no attempt to worm or guilt his way back into her life, the moustache continued his journey to the chapel door alone, leaving Billy to finish his prayers.

* * *

_December 24, 2012_

"Hi."

With a single syllable, Victoria broke the silence and transported them both back to the present. Billy followed suit and accepted her smile as an invitation to cross the threshold and enter the sacred space shared by mother and daughter.

"She asleep?"

"What do you think?" she laughed, and Billy's laughter soon harmonized with hers. Even out of the womb, their little girl was a night owl, always fighting sleep as long as possible, staying awake lest she miss something important.

He inched his way closer to them until he saw with his own eyes that she was, in fact, still awake, her big, bright eyes staring at her mother's face, her little hand curled up in a fist beside her own as she moved her mouth in a sucking motion. They'd had her for over two weeks now, but her existence still seemed so surreal.

"Where are the kids?" Victoria asked as Billy placed a kiss on top of her head first, and then the baby's before kneeling on the floor beside them.

"They're in bed. Icing free and waiting for you to come tuck them in." Not only was it their first Christmas with the new baby, but it was also their first Christmas with both Reed and Delia, their first Christmas as a family of five, six counting Keely. They had spent the day decorating the house and making cookies for Santa, getting more icing on themselves than on the cooled snowmen and reindeer it was intended for. And when Victoria had to head upstairs to feed the baby, Billy had taken over the task of cleaning the older two up and putting them to bed with a story.

"Good. Cause you're just in time to take over here."

The baby had had her fill, and Victoria repositioned her shirt, covering herself as Billy helped her to her feet. In a dance they had nearly perfected since coming home from the hospital fourteen days ago, he took her spot in the rocking chair, while Victoria carefully deposited the weightless bundle into his arms. Nursing was her time with the baby, but story time, that was all Daddy time, had been since that afternoon in Italy when his voice first settled their active child. It was still the only thing that got her to sleep most nights.

"Hey," Billy said, grabbing hold of his wife as she started to walk away. "After you tuck the kids in, go downstairs. I have something for you."

He was all cocky grin, the one that always told her he was up to something, and she responded with a raised eyebrow and a playfully defiant look. She hadn't forgotten it was their anniversary, the first anniversary of their third wedding, and he had just shown his hand that he hadn't either. "Oh, yeah? Well, we'll just see about that."

Reed and Delia were already asleep by the time she reached each of their rooms, the excitement and busyness of the day having worn them out, but she tucked them in anyway, removing the toys they had tried to smuggle into bed with them and placing a soft kiss on each of their heads. Three kids was a lot of work, exhausting, tiring work, but there was nothing in the world she would trade for having them all there under one roof. As her bare feet padded back down the hallway, Victoria yawned and stretched, stopping momentarily to peek her head into the nursery where Billy, with his handsome, animated face, was in the throes of some story that, if she had to guess, involved a handsome ne'er-do-well and an ice princess. And their daughter, she was certain, was probably staring at him with big, sleepy eyes, falling in love with him all over again, just as she did every night.

Remembering his request, she left the two of them alone and continued downstairs, where the only lights glowed from the aluminum Christmas tree they just couldn't trade in for a real one. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the living room, a sense of dejavu coming over her as she remembered that day last May when she had returned home from her first appointment with Dr. Lange and that impromptu stop at the door with the four gold numbers descending the face. It seemed like a lifetime ago, a desperation she had trouble conjuring now, but as her eyes danced around the room, landing on the plate of cookies set out for Santa and then the fireplace where five red stockings hung from the mantle, she knew that there were still things in this world worth feeling desperate over, desires only a human heart scarred with loss could fathom.

It was the stocking in the middle, the tiny one much smaller than the other four that caught her eye and lured her across the room. She touched it, ran her fingers across the soft material, traced the three letters newly embroidered across the front and then smiled as she remembered how hard it had been for them to come up with such a petite name.

* * *

_December 9, 2012_

For so long, nursing had been just another thing she had missed out on with Reed, something she had come to terms with not experiencing, until now. After only one attempt that, according to the nurse who had chased Nikki and Jill out of the room, went as well as most first attempts, Victoria knew it would be their special time together. The baby had stared at her the entire time, with big, bright eyes that seemed wise far beyond her nearly immeasurable life. They were her eyes, the shape anyway, but the twinkle was all Billy, all Abbott. The baby's lips were hers, too, the ears his. It was amazing; every time she looked at her, Victoria saw something new, some new exciting detail about this stranger she had been through so much with.

It was just the two of them still. Billy hadn't returned, and she could only guess that he had gotten caught up in proud daddy duty, calling every person in his phone's contact list, waking them up to share the news. There was another option, though, an option that after the last few months seemed more plausible to her, and if that was the case, she was okay with him being gone a little longer. The nurse had tried to take the baby after her feeding, saying Victoria needed her rest, but she was nowhere near ready to let her go. Sleep could wait 'til later, because right now, she was running on pure joy.

"Hey, you," she whispered and brought the baby up close to her face, breathing in the scent of new life. "We did it, you and me." Right or wrong, so much of the last nine months had been between just the two of them, conversations whispered in the dark, train rides through the Italian countryside, an entire summer spent on the run. "And you know what? It was all worth it, even those months away from your daddy. But we are never, ever, ever, gonna let him out of our sight again, are we? Nope. We're not."

His ears must have been burning, luring him back to them, because when the door to her hospital room creaked open, it was Billy's head that poked inside, making sure it was okay to enter. She could tell that he was exhausted, too, but just like for her, the tiredness was no match for exhilaration, and as he approached them and took a seat in the chair by her bed, she saw that his eyes were red, confirmation that her instinct about where he had been was right.

"You say 'thank you' for me, too?"

"Yeah," he smiled shyly and then held up the object she hadn't noticed he carried in his hands. "Got something for you."

It was a book, and it only took a quick glimpse for Victoria to recognize it as the same baby-naming book her father had given her when she was pregnant with Reed. She took it from him, reluctantly handing their daughter over to him so she could flip through the pages that still marked some of the names she and J.T. had considered for their son, before they even knew for certain he was their son. That book had been perhaps the most useful and caring gift her father had ever given her, and seeing it again only served to remind her of the father she missed and wished could be a part of this, a part of her life.

"You saw my dad?"

"Yeah. In the chapel, but he's gone now. Just wanted to make sure you and the baby are okay. And to give you that, I guess."

He was watching her, waiting to see how she would react to the news, probably wondering if he should have told her at all. She continued to flip through the book, and a thousand images rushed to the surface of her mind, some good, some sad, all of them in the past. Then she closed it and hugged it to her chest, against another loving, thoughtful gift given to her by the man sitting beside her, making silly faces at the little pink creature in his arms.

"Well, we do have to name her, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "but I have the list of names we narrowed it down to on my phone, so we probably don't even really need the book. If you'd rather not…"

"You know…," she began, scrunching her face up, her voice going one octave higher than normal, two signs that usually suggested Billy wasn't going to like what she had to say next. "…about those, I'm not really sure any of them are right for her."

"Okay, so what are you thinking, huh? What do you want to call this little bird?"

"I don't know. But it has to be just right. Special. It has to be her. And us. And it can't be too cutesy. Or too old. And…her initials can't spell anything weird. We can't have that."

"Mommy's crazy. Yeah. She's crazy," he laughed to his daughter, and while Victoria opened the baby-naming book back up and flipped to the section of girl names, Billy studied the baby's face, both of them trying to come up with the perfect name that fit all the criteria. "Okay, so how about Florence. Florence is important to us, and there's Florence and the Machine. That's kind of cool."

"No. Definitely not Florence. It makes me think of the mom on _The Brady Bunch."_

"Okay," he sighed. "So maybe Monica? Like Santa Monica, where we made her. We can call her Mon for short. Like Jamaica, Mon."

"Yeah, cause she won't hate us for that. Is that really the best you can come up with?"

"Hey, hey, hey. You're the one with the book." He playfully hit her leg with his free hand, and they both laughed at just how difficult it was to come up with a perfect name. "Well, I happen to think we should name her the prettiest name I know. Victoria."

"Uh-uh. I told you weeks ago we're not doing that. No family names, no variations of our names. Nicholas and I suffered with that our entire lives. We are not doing that to her."

"C'mon," he coaxed. "We can call her Tori?"

"Nope," Victoria said defiantly, determined to win this battle.

"But she gets my last name. I want our daughter to have part of your name, too. Besides," he smiled and nudged her with his elbow, "I happen to think the world could use another Victoria Abbott."

"Another Victoria Abbott? Really?"

He laughed and confirmed his proposal with a 'yeah,' but she didn't hear him. The wheels in her brain were turning and she flipped the pages of the baby-naming book to the section of names beginning with letter 'A.'

"What is it?" he asked and leaned over to see what she was looking at, to see the name printed just above her index finger. "Ava?"

"Yeah. You said Another Victoria Abbott. Her initials would be A-V-A." She looked up at him and could see that, just like her, he was mulling the idea over.

"Well, what does it mean?" he finally asked her, his eyes transitioning from hers to the baby whose nearly identical eyes were finally becoming heavy with sleep.

"Hmmm. In German, it means…'desired,'" she read, following the line her finger traced along the page. "Well, she's definitely desired. And in Hebrew, it means 'life,' which also fits, and in Latin…" Her voice trailed off as a grin graced her face and a soft laugh escaped her lips.

"In Latin what?" Billy demanded in a whisper, but without risking disturbing the baby, he couldn't read the answer for himself.

"In Latin," she teased, pulling the book farther away from him, "Ava means 'like a bird.'"

"Really? Like a bird? Like our bird? Like a night owl?"

"Like a phoenix," she added, and based on the grin on his face, she knew he was becoming attached to the name, but there was something, despite the fact that it met all their criteria and seemed like a sign, that was holding her back. "Billy, you don't think it's too much like 'Eve,' do you?"

It was the first time since the birth that she felt anything other than joy, the first time he had seen anything other than happiness in her eyes. She wasn't sad, just concerned about placing any burden of the past on their child. "No," he said softly and reached for her hand with as little movement as possible. "I don't, but maybe we can look at it as a nice tribute to Eve, a way to honor her and what you went through." Victoria smiled slightly at his suggestion, and Billy rose carefully from his chair, taking the empty corner of the hospital bed as his new seat. "Besides," he grinned, "I'm gonna take all the credit for her name anyway."

"Hey, I was the one who thought of it."

"But I was the one who said Another Victoria Abbott. You didn't even want her to have your name. Now, she has part of both of our names forever."

"So you're sure? You want to call her Ava? Ava Abbott?"

"Nope," he said and placed the hint of a kiss on Victoria's nose. "I want to call her Ava Victoria Abbott. That way her initials are A-V-A, and her birthday is 12-9-12. It's all about the numbers, baby."

Victoria rolled her eyes at him, but ultimately agreed. Their daughter's name would be Ava, the desired one, the breath of life, the one who is like a bird, the one who had miraculously fluttered inside her mother's womb for nine months and who would soar through life unfettered by the past but wise enough to acknowledge it. And as they watched the night owl succumb to morning slumber, they knew that one day, they would tell her all the meanings behind her name.

* * *

_December 24, 2012_

"You know, at some point, she's gonna want a bigger stocking."

Victoria hadn't heard Billy come down the stairs, and so she jumped a little and let go of the tiny stocking when she felt his breath and then his wet lips against her neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist that was almost exactly as it had been prior to pregnancy, and she melted into his hold as they began to sway back and forth.

"But we'll still keep this one, won't we? For her baby book or something?"

"Absolutely," he said and graced her neck that was now free of the St Gerard medal with another kiss. She had taken it off, or rather Billy had, the day they came home from the hospital, placing it for safe keeping in her jewelry box where one day, she would take it out and pass it on to Delia or Ava or Reed's wife when the time came.

"Ava asleep?"

"Yep, Daddy still has the magic touch. Either that or I bored her to sleep."

"No, I don't believe that. Not if you were telling her about us." She turned in his arms and snaked hers up around his neck, her fingers tenderly playing with his hair. "So where's my surprise?"

"Your surprise? Hmmm. Who said anything about a surprise?"

"You did," she pouted and let go of him, placing her hands on her hips instead. "William, give me my surprise or I might have to hurt you."

"Okay, okay, okay." He put his hands up in mock surrender and walked to the Christmas tree, pulling a small, flat, rectangular box from where he had hidden it deep within the branches of the tree. He dangled it in front of her, using the promise of it to draw her to the sofa, where they both flopped down.

"Happy Anniversary," he grinned and handed it to her, but was surprised when instead of opening it right away, she reached under the sofa and pulled out a larger, but even flatter rectangle.

"Open mine first."

She was beaming as he slid the ribbon from the mystery gift and then roughly ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing a calendar, a 2013 calendar. They had agreed to do traditional gifts for their Christmas anniversary, and the calendar was definitely paper, the traditional gift for a first anniversary. But still, his brow wrinkled in confusion as he held the gift up to her for an explanation.

"Open it," she commanded, and he did. The pages were filled with pictures of them, in Italy, in Jamaica, in Santa Monica, and even one at Finn McGee's to represent March. And on the page featuring the first month of the new year, there was a big red circle around January 20."

"What's this for?" he asked, pointing at it.

"_That_ is six weeks." And when his brow wrinkled even further in confusion, she leaned closer to him, teasing his ear with her mouth. "You know, six weeks. Since Ava was born. We have to wait six weeks 'til Dr. Lange gives me the all clear for…baking cookies. Grandma Nikki has already agreed to baby-sit, so we'll have some time alone. Just the two of us."

"Oh." His eyes grew big as the light bulb in his head went on, and he planted a kiss on her lips. "Thank you, baby. You always know exactly what to get me."

"I just thought that maybe we could use this calendar if we ever forget to make time for us, sort of like our love calendar. Not that we need it, or anything."

"Oh, we definitely don't need it, but I love it. Thank you. Now open yours."

Victoria was much more careful opening her gift, placing the bow on the coffee table for safe keeping, undoing the ends so that the paper didn't rip, all of her efforts resulting in a piece of paper, neatly nestled in tissue paper. She shot him a questioning look, but all she got in return was a gesture that she should unfold it.

"It's a lease," she blurted, holding the piece of paper up for him to see. "You trying to get rid of me already?"

"No way," he laughed and took the paper from her hands. "I had to lease the space above the magazine for storage, but we only need about half of it. It's big, and there's good light. I thought maybe you would want it, in case you wanted to paint or get away for a while."

She brought her hands up to her chest and blinked against the stinging in her eyes. "You got me a studio?"

"Yeah, if you want it. I mean, you want it, don't you?" She didn't answer him with words, but instead took his head in her hands and planted a kiss, tender but strong, on his lips. "And you know," he said, clearing his throat afterwards, "since it's right upstairs from the magazine, I could come up and pose for you sometime."

"Yeah? Well, we might have to close the blinds for that."

She gave him another kiss and then took the lease from his hands and deposited it on the coffee table next to his present from her, picking up a stack of pictures as she settled against his chest. They were pictures Billy had taken at church the day before. Reed and Delia had both been in the Christmas pageant, and Ava had debuted the little ivory dress covered in birds that her daddy had secretly bought her in Italy, on a gut feeling, before her gender was even known.

"I think this is the one I want to send Dr. Lange," she said, holding up a close-up of their daughter's face, her bright, blue eyes on display, her little pink lips pursed together. "For his wall of miracles."

"That's a good one," Billy murmured into her hair. "We should send a copy to Dr. Rossi, too."

She nodded her head against the hardness of his chin and stretched her arms to toss the pictures back on the table before drawing her legs up beneath her. He was warm and strong. Safe. It was exactly where she wanted to be, in his arms, their kids upstairs asleep on Christmas Eve, not a thing moving except the changing glow that radiated from the Christmas tree.

"It was right here, you know," she whispered, recalling the night they had first snuggled in the glow of this tree, the taste of peppermint on her lips. "Two years ago, you promised we would have a baby."

"I made a lot of promises, Vick. Most of'em I had no business making. But that one…I'm just glad I didn't let you down again."

"You've never let me down." She turned her face up to his with a look that acknowledged there had been hurt and pain, but that she had accepted it and endured it as a part of life, a part of who he was, a side effect of loving so strongly and purely. "You saved me too, you know. You saved me from becoming my father, from forgetting what really matters. Like love and family. Laughter."

"And sex," he quipped. "Really, really good sex."

They both laughed, but they also both understood the seriousness of her statement. She had pulled him from a physical gutter nearly three years, but they had both learned that gutters come in all shapes and sizes, that sometimes they are literal, and sometimes you don't even know you're down until someone pulls you so high all you see is clouds.

They would get up from the sofa soon. There were things to do, a visit from Santa to prepare for, and tomorrow would be even busier, beginning with an early wake-up call from Reed and Delia. Then there would be brunch at their home with some of the family, and visits from the rest later in the day, including a short one from her father that had been cautiously prearranged by Nikki. Adam had asked to stop by too, and they had agreed. He had a gift for the baby, and Victoria, remembering that he too had lost something that night at the hospital, wanted a chance to thank him for helping Billy find her.

And in the future, there would be fights, over silly things mostly and a few serious ones that would make them almost forget what they stood to lose. But they would make up. Undoubtedly, they would make up, in passionate reconciliations, in a healing that would bond them stronger than the original hold. There would be struggles and a lot of joy, family dinners and family fights. There would be trips to Italy and Jamaica and quiet evenings spent at home, like tonight. But no matter what happened, what the future had in store for them, Billy and Victoria would face it together, as two who knew the cost of going it alone, as two who knew the miracle of being one. And most of all, there would be love, grateful, perfect, crazy, unbreakable love.


End file.
